Penumbra I: The Rubicon
by Skaldic Oresteia
Summary: Post-HBP Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappear on the Horcrux hunt, while Ginny is left behind to find her own path in the struggle against Voldemort. On separate paths, Harry finds an unexpected ally, while Ginny faces repercussions from the Order and her parents for helping him escape. In the meantime, Voldemort finds a new ally of deadlier power than Harry could ever have imagined.
1. Prologue: 14 April 1945

**.**

 **Penumbra I: The Rubicon**

" _He caught up with his cohorts at the River Rubicon, which was the boundary of his province, where he paused for a while, thinking over the magnitude of what he was planning, then, turning to his closer companions, he said: 'Even now we can still turn back. But once we have crossed that little bridge, everything must be decided by arms.'_

" _Then said Caesar: 'Let us go where the gods have shown us the way and where the injustice of our enemies calls us. The die is cast.'"  
_ – _Suetonius,_ _The Lives of the Caesars_

" _This misfortune you find is of your own manufacture.  
_ _Keep hold of what you have, it will harm no other,  
_ _For hatred comes home to the hand that chose it."  
_ _\- Simon Armitage,_ _The Death of King Arthur: A New Verse Translation_

* * *

 **Prologue:  
** **14 April 1945**

A cold, Cairngorm breeze drifted across the mountainous green landscape, sweeping up onto the castle balcony and causing Armando Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to shiver uncomfortably; though if truth be told, when the evening skies were clear, he did not mind the cold draughts of early spring. To him they were a reminder that even wizards were still mortal, a truth that his kind lamentably forgot at times, and when the magical world was swept up into its complacency, terrible things tended to creep up upon them. Such as had occurred across the Channel, where the fires and choler of war raged. For British wizardry, the war had thankfully touched few outside the natural European boundaries, though the British Muggles had not been so fortunate. But it still in some ways left its mark upon their magical counterpart.

He sighed in frustration, having only moments ago received an earful from his irate substitute Transfiguration teacher, who readily agreed to teach the Hogwarts students in the increasingly frequent absences of their regular professor. But when a part-time substitution unofficially extended into a full-time professorship he didn't normally have time for, Professor Tressider's earlier enthusiasm quickly soured into strong resentment. The notice of a possible suspension from his other job, following his lengthiest substitution yet, had been the final straw.

"Working full-time because your Transfiguration professor keeps running off for months at a time wasn't in my job description," he had ranted. "I have to spend at least some of my life at my actual job and with my family. Couldn't you at least find out when he'll return?"

"I am very sorry your substitution has turned out this way, Professor Tressider," Dippet had told him in a placating, though chagrined voice. "But I cannot determine the length of Professor Dumbledore's absences. Not when he's fighting a war God knows where."

Tressider threw his hands up angrily.

"Two days," he spat. "That's all I'm giving you. If Dumbledore's not back in two days, you'll have to find yourself another substitute."

And with that he stormed out, leaving Dippet in the difficult position of locating another substitute of equal competency to either Dumbledore or Tressider, while yet contemplating how much longer the war on the Continent could go on, and that Dumbledore treated the matter so personally.

He turned his gaze to the Hogwarts grounds, where he could see a few students wandering about, in spite of the cold. He could also till hear the dulcet sounds of celebration from Ravenclaw Tower, after a decisive victory in the Quidditch Final, even from his balcony. Professor Dippet loved the school, and he couldn't imagine the Highland spring without the stress, and then relief, of the students' exams, the excitement over the late Quidditch season, the settling of older students' futures and relationships. Hogwarts was the only steady thing in Armando Dippet's life, and heaven forbid there would ever come a time and a world without it.

As he observed the grounds, he caught sight of a larger figure moving alongside something silvery: Rubeus Hagrid herding unicorns from Professor Shepard's paddock. Regret welled within his heart as he watched the gamekeeper's apprentice, who appeared to be settling well into his position, although Hagrid's apprenticeship, and later career, would always be tainted with the shame of expulsion. Dippet had wondered since then if he'd been too intemperate, or if he'd actually investigated the matter properly. He trusted Professor Dumbledore's judgment, and Dumbledore alone defended Hagrid, protesting his expulsion and subsequently behaving coldly towards the prefect who had accused Hagrid; but in spite of his respect for Dumbledore's judgment, Dippet couldn't see what choice he'd had.

As he watched Hagrid work, he then saw another figure shift in the golden-orange light of dusk, though he could not quite make out who or what it was. Hagrid paused and moved toward the newcomer, and Dippet squinted, trying to get a better view. But at that moment there was a sudden flash of light beside him, and he jumped backward with a yelp. A little scroll fell to the floor before him, but his eyes were drawn to the scarlet and gold feather that floated lazily toward the floor of the balcony. Dippet reached out and caught the feather, staring at it for a moment, before he quickly picked up the scroll and unrolled it.

 _G. is dead. Al's recovering.  
_ _-Abe_

Dippet stared at the note, hardly daring to believe what he'd read. Then realizing what it meant, he laughed. Relief filled his mind and heart, and he retreated into his office, leaving the scroll on his desk, his mind racing. Professor Tressider no longer had cause for complaint. All it now would take was to convince the disgruntled substitute professor and his superiors at the Ministry to hold on for a couple of weeks. Dumbledore was coming back, hopefully permanently.

In short order, Dippet quickly left his office and made his way for Tressider's, determined to resolve the problem once and for all. But when arrived there, he'd hardly raised his fist to knock on the door before he heard footsteps and wheezing. Pausing, Dippet turned as a burly man abruptly came around the corner, and upon seeing him, stopped abruptly.

"Good evening, Mr. Ogg," Dippet greeted, smiling brightly.

"Headmaster…" The gamekeeper paused for a moment to catch his breath. He'd obviously run the entire way. Dippet waited patiently, and presently Ogg was able to manage, "The centaur leader's-outside the forest. He wants- to talk to you."

Professor Dippet was a little taken aback at the exact moment of this conference, but then again, he reflected, centaurs tended to have immaculate timing. There probably was only one reason the sage would want to see him now. He therefore gave Mr. Ogg his thanks and changed direction, heading for the front doors instead. Tressider's complaints could wait. He passed numerous students on the way, some of whom nodded to him in a respectful greeting. One boy looked like a deer caught in wandlight, something that normally would raise a few teachers' eyebrows, but on this night he was not concerned with potential rule-breakers.

It felt even colder when he stepped outside than it had only moments ago; the sunset had now become a distinct red color, and in the darkening sky above the stars began to distinctly glimmer. Professor Dippet didn't stop until he approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but once he did, he sighted and shakily lowered himself onto a tree stump by the side of the lake. A drowsing bowtruckle, settled on the trunk of a nearby tree, blinked at him curiously, assessing him, but after some time it seemed to lose interest and buried itself in the bark of its home. Then the sound of hooves on grass met his ears, and Professor Dippet looked up to see an aged, gray centaur standing nearby, protected from the intense cold with a deer-skin wrap.

They both stared at each other without expression, until Dippet asked quietly, "You sent for me, Tiresias?"

The old centaur bowed his head. "You just learned of today's happenings in Germany."

"Then you already know?"

"The brothers were victorious," Tiresias replied. "The Triskelions have fallen."

Dippet nodded. "You always have a way of knowing things before news could possibly reach you, oracle. But yes. Grindelwald is dead, and I imagine the Muggle dictator will soon follow." He exhaled shakily. "It is over."

But Tiresias, declining to share in Dippet's relief, bowed his head solemnly. "A battle has been won, but it is far from over."

Dippet's smile faltered. "You think the Triskelions will remain a threat?"

The sage shook his head again. "No, they were just an ulcer that started bleeding. It may seem sturdy now, but the Wizarding World was built on a splintering column. If corruption and depravity seep like water into the cracks again, the column will erode and wizardry will topple."

The wizard blinked. "What does that mean?"

"I refer to the unsteady nature of the separation between the magical and non-magical worlds," Tiresias clarified, his voice stoic but firm. "It is a shaky foundation. Perhaps the worlds were not meant to be separate. Even the centaurs cannot always foresee outcomes, but this we do know, that this foundation will not last. The barrier between worlds is crumbling."

"If you say so," mumbled Dippet, feeling a little nettled.

Tiresias surveyed him dispassionately, and Dippet knew that the centaur hadn't missed his disbelief. After a moment, he observed, "You betray the complacency common to all wizard-kind, Professor Dippet, though you yourself frequently condemn that weakness. But you do not know where to look for the source of your people's hubris, and therefore you do not recognize it, not even in yourself." He scrutinized Dippet sadly, making the other fidget uncomfortably. "The fall of wizardry as you know it cannot be prevented, and you cannot help. You can only warn, which is why I ask you to pass my message to the Dumbledore brothers."

"What message?"

"Understand this: The Paladins did not vanquish evil," Tiresias told him quietly. "As they cast down Chernobog, Asmodeus stirred in the shadows, taking advantage of their distraction, rearing like a hidden serpent ready to strike. This portentous exchange of devils, depravity for malevolence, will bring havoc to your world, the likes of which have not been seen for many eons. Even as Rudolf Grindelwald lies dead, something is stirring within your world, an evil greater and more formidable than Tenebrous, Emeric, or even Herpo the Foul. Even now, Armando Dippet, at this very moment." He paused for a moment, and turned his gaze to the twilight sky. "This morning Mars shone brighter than ever. We initially thought it was because of the bloodshed in Germany, but the stars are always fraught with double-meanings. The planet's alignment with the other stars and planets, and the methods by which we read these signs, suggests something more.

"And this is my message and prophecy: _It will begin at Godric's Hollow, when a child is marked for battle._ _A pivotal discovery with great and terrible implications will be made, far to the west, in the shadow of the once-mountain called Anzem. The Sign of the Penumbra, the most fearsome omen known to the mortal world, will appear. Then begins the Great War of the Two Half-Bloods, when the sevenfold sorcerer battles the Arbitrator. Dual powers will collide, an ancient war will reignite, and a man's soul will be forcibly rendered. Then watch for the virescent eyes of the War Mage, the man with no heart, a revenant of untold power who will either rebuild wizardry or destroy it."_

Dippet's bewilderment was absolute, but even so, he visibly shivered. "Great war?" he stammered.

"Yes," Tiresias responded with cold intensity, "the inevitable cataclysm that will be the end of the magical world as you know it. Even now, a great evil is stirring. The War of the Two Half-Bloods will begin at Godric's Hollow. Tell Dumbledore."

Then, without another word, the oracle of the centaurs of Britain turned tail and returned to the forest, leaving Professor Dippet in unsettled confusion.


	2. The Unprepared With Preparation

**.**

 **VOLUME I**

 **Chapter One  
** **The Unprepared with Preparation**

" _Those who face the unprepared with preparation are victorious."  
_ _-Sun Tzu,_ _The Art of War_

* * *

16 June 1997

It was late spring. On a normal day in the weeks preceding summer solstice, Privet Drive was an explosion of color, mostly from the residents' flowerbeds, a source of great pride to the neighborhood that allowed Mrs. This-Door and Mrs. Next-Door and Mrs. Across-The-Street to complement and resent each other's gardens to their hearts' content. The heat of oncoming summer led mothers to take their families out of doors, to play in their backyards or in the parks, if only to exhaust the energies of their youngest, most exuberant children.

That was a normal day in Little Whinging. But this was not a normally day in Little Whinging. It was not even a normal year. June did not bring its usual late-spring and early-summer heat. It was cloudy, the horizon darkened by an approaching storm, and while this wasn't unusual in of itself, the dulled colors from stunted flowers were. The unusually cold, misty weather made it impossible for the flora to flourish. Such as it had been for weeks. The cold of winter could not permanently keep the effects of the Earth's procession at bay, but in 1997 its recession was both stubborn and sluggish.

It was on one such day that a taxi stopped in front of Number Four, Privet Drive, and Harry James Potter stepped out, and looked at the house forlornly. The driver also got out and opened up the boot of the car. Together they hoisted out a heavy trunk, and lugged it to the porch, Harry holding his owl Hedwig's cage in his free hand. That done, he placed the cage on the trunk and wiped cold sweat from his brow, and looked back at the driver.

"Thanks, Kingsley," he said, his breath visible in the chilled weather.

Kingsley nodded. "Don't mention it. Hestia will bring Ron and Hermione shortly. Assuming they can get Molly to relent." He shook his head with a small smile. "But until they, don't leave this street. Just in case."

He looked up and down the street as he spoke, causing Harry to apprehensively do the same. Hedwig hooted dolefully.

Once Kingsley had returned to the taxi, Harry turned back to face the door. The "Welcome" mat belied the Dursleys' hospitality, but after a moment's hesitation, he knocked, stepped back, and waited.

The door opened, and he and his aunt looked at each other, the latter in bewildered annoyance, the former in resignation.

"Get inside!" Petunia Dursley hissed, stepping back to allow Harry entry. He took up Hedwig's cage in one hand and dragged his trunk behind him, pausing only to nod at Kingsley, who nodded back and drove away. As soon as she closed the door, Petunia rounded on her nephew.

" _You_ are not supposed to be back yet."

Harry shrugged. "Term ended early."

"A surprised look flitted across her face, but it was quickly replaced with anger. "Why weren't we informed?"

Harry didn't respond immediately. A shadow seemed to pass over his face, but it was gone almost immediately. In a curt voice, he said, "There was an incident. The school governors were forced to cut the term short. So here I am."

Her anger didn't ebb. "Your lot can't get your act together, can you?"

"If ending the school year without a teacher committing murder on school grounds is keeping it together, then no, I suppose we can't keep our act together," snapped Harry.

Taken aback, Petunia said nothing.

"I'll get my stuff upstairs," Harry told her coldly, and, leaving Hedwig's cage on the doormat, he proceeded to shove his trunk up the stairs. Petunia watched him work, remaining in startled silence. When he reached the top of the stairs, Harry looked back down, and in a calmer voice, he added, "I need to talk to you once I've finished."

Petunia nodded stiffly and disappeared into the kitchen. Harry returned to the foot of the stairs and carried Hedwig's cage back up, and again, cage in one hand and the handle of his trunk in the other, made his way to his bedroom. He had known that his aunt wouldn't react will to his arrival, but he still felt it best to warn her of his friends' impending arrival beforehand. As for what Kingsley had told him on the way to Little Whinging, Harry supposed he'd have to break it to his aunt and uncle slowly. Ron and Hermione coming to stay with him at Privet Drive, and the Order's new precautions following his seventeenth birthday, might be too much for Petunia to handle all at once, and certainly would send Vernon into a flying rage.

After a few minutes, Harry finally made it to his room, and allowed the end of his trunk to fall to the floor with a loud thud. He then put Hedwig's cage on his desk. She looked at him expectantly, and Harry opened the trunk, fishing around for a box of owl treats. Finding it, he offered one to Hedwig, who accepted it happily. Then, deciding that he'd better get it over with, Harry slowly made his way back down the stairs, and entered the kitchen to see his aunt cleaning the countertop.

"May I get some lunch?" he politely asked.

Petunia said nothing. Harry took that as a "yes", and opened the refrigerator. He surved the inside for a moment, and then settled on some cheese and crackers. As he pulled out a cutting board and started slicing the brick of cheese, Petunia finally spoke.

"All right, what is it?"

Harry looked up from the cheese, and seeing her expression, hesitated. He swallowed his childhood apprehension. _You're almost bloody seventeen._ "I'm going to have two friends staying with me for the next couple of weeks," he informed her.

She looked furious. "If you think I'm going to have two more of your ilk"—

"We'll keep out of your way," Harry interrupted curtly. "They'll be here to help me do some work. You don't have to worry about what the neighbors think. Hermione has non-magic parents and knows how to act normally. She'll help Ron do the same." When she opened her mouth in protest, he quickly added, "You don't even need to provide us meals. We'll feed ourselves."

She looked slightly cheered at that.

"They're also both of age," Harry continued, "so they can use magic outside of school."

His aunt's face hardened again.

"I'll tell them not to unless they have to," he added, "and I'm sure they'll avoid it in front of you and Uncle Vernon."

"How long do they intend to stay?" asked Petunia.

Harry finished with the cheese and pulled a plate from the cabinet. "A couple of weeks, I think. Whenever I'm allowed to go to Ron's place, so hopefully not too long. And if it brings you any consolation, we're not coming back."

"It doesn't," Petunia snapped. Then she realized what Harry was saying, and raised an eyebrow. "You're moving out?"

Harry nodded as he took a seat at the table. "I'll be of age soon. I'll leave with Ron and Hermione, and I don't expect or intend to ever return."

He said this with a strange, faraway expression that Petunia did not fail to notice. She frowned at him for a moment, but her expression had turned inquisitive. But after thinking it over for a moment, her shoulder slumped a little, though her annoyance returned in full force.

"Very well," she relented. "You may allow your friends to stay here, but don't expect Vernon to take it well."

Harry shrugged. "I never did."

"When will they arrive?"

"In about an hour. I wanted to clear it with you first."

Petunia looked resigned. "Clean up after yourself. And answer the door yourself when they get here."

She left the room abruptly. "Yes, ma'am," Harry muttered to himself sarcastically.

* * *

At around noon, another taxi pulled into Privet Drive, but this one stopped at the street corner, rather than at Number Four, as the first had. The two arrivals were unfamiliar to any on-looking residents: a young, lanky man with flaming red hair, and a girl of the same age with bushy brown hair. Both of them only carried book bags. Hermione Granger closed the taxi door and tapped on the driver's window.

"See you then, Hestia," she said to the woman at the wheel. "Thanks for the ride."

"I'll stay until you're in the house," Hestia told them. "Best that way."

"Why?" asked Ron Weasley.

Hestia shook her head. "Never mind. Just in case."

She rolled her window up, but the taxi remained stationary. Hermione glanced at Ron nervously, but he shrugged and they started down the street. Once they were out of earshot, however, he asked, "You don't think she meant something by that?"

"I'm sure we'll know soon enough, if she did," Hermione answered. "The Order's probably watching Little Whinging. I would."

Ron didn't answer. He rubbed his forearms from cold. As they continued, a car pulled into one of the drives in front of them. As they passed, a woman climbed out of the driver's sdeat. She glowered at them suspiciously, and made no sign of greeting. Down the street, they also saw a stony-faced old woman pruning a rose bush.

"You'd find more welcome in the Chamber of Secrets," Ron commented wryly.

Presently they arrived at Number Four, and Hermione apprehensively knocked on the door. After a moment, Harry opened it, and a smile broke out across his face; but before he could greet his friends, Hermione pulled him into a hard embrace.

"Hermione!" he laughed. "I only just saw you two hours ago!"

Hermione backed off, looking sheepish, as Harry stepped aside to let her and Ron in.

"Hello, mate," Ron said, clapping Harry's shoulder. "So, I'm guessing the Muggles are going to let us stay?"

"Aunt Petunia relented," Harry responded, closing the door. "Uncle Vernon isn't home yet, though. We haven't told him."

Ron grimaced as they ascended the stairs. "That's not gonna be pretty. But I'll use a silencing spell on him if I have to."

"You'll do no such thing!" Hermione scolded.

"The underage restriction was the only thing that ever stopped me," Harry told her. He opened the door to their room and led them inside, sitting on the bed as Ron closed the door behind them. "Your mum finally let you come here, then?" he asked, thinking of the heated discussion Ron had started with Mrs. Weasley as soon as he told her he intended to go with Harry to the Dursleys.

"Eventually she gave in," Ron answered.

Hermione dropped her book bag on the chair at the desk. "After all, with those wards still up, we're just as safe here as you are."

Harry looked at her curiously. "What about your parents?"

Hermione looked away uncomfortably. "Gone," she said quietly. "The Order's relocating them to America. Mum and Dad will continue their practice there."

Harry was stunned at how quickly the Order had acted. "I'm sorry," he said sincerely, before adding bemusedly, "The Order acts quickly."

"Actually, Dad arranged it months ago," Hermione told him. "I told him and Mum about the danger last Christmas. He found a job opportunity in Chicago a couple of months ago, and when the Order recommended relocation, they started packing immediately." She sighed. "They wanted me to go with them, of course, but they accepted it when I told them I'm needed here."

They fell silent. The sound of raindrops hitting the window met their ears after a moment.

"So, what's the plan?" asked Ron.

Hermione, relieved to be on a different subject, eagerly said, "We can't do anything until Harry's of age, obviously."

"I was thinking about it on my way here," Harry said, "and I think a good time would be after I get my Apparation license." A thought struck him, and he looked at Ron. "Do any of your family know?"

"That you've got a secret mission?" Ron shook his head. "They haven't got a clue. Mum would go mental if she had any idea."

"What about the Order?"

Harry shook his head. "I doubt it. Dumbledore didn't tell them anything, and if he didn't, I won't. I trust Remus and Kingsley and Mad-Eye, but I won't take the risk. There have been too many betrayals."

Neither Ron nor Hermione commented. A bitter look had crossed Harry's face, reflecting a sentiment they instantly understood and could only share.

* * *

In another part of the country, rain battered down on Ginny Weasley's bedroom window as she unpacked her school trunk. She shivered as she listened to the harsh sound, although this probably was owing to exposure to the surprisingly biting cold on the way home, rather than the actual warmth of the house. Magic, of course, made the temperatures of a wizarding household easy to control.

As she moved to her dresser to put away some of her clothes, movement outside her window caught her eye, but the heavy flow of water hindered her ability to make out what it was. She glanced at her door and drew her wand.

"Impervius," she muttered under her breath. The window immediately cleared. The weakness in the enforcement of Underage Magic laws was one of the first things Fred and George had discovered upon leaving Hogwarts, and naturally Ginny therefore knew of it as well.

She spotted the source of the movement almost immediately, Sturgis Podmore in the distance, moving along the perimeter of the Burrow with his wand out. Ginny squinted, unable to distinguish exactly what he was doing through the rain, but, from all she'd heard her parents talking about on the way home, she could easily guess.

"I just can't believe Dumbledore didn't leave any instructions in case this happened," a voice drifted up the stairs. Ginny looked away from Sturgis and to her door in surprise. It was unmistakably Charlie's voice; the last she'd heard, he was still in Romania.

She quickly headed for the stairs, clambering down just as she heard Bill reply in a dull voice, "They read out his will the other day. Nothing. He didn't even say anything to Aberforth or Elphias."

Before Charlie could respond, however, he spotted his sister as she entered the living room, and smiled. "Hey there, Squirt."

Ginny ran over and hugged him. "I didn't know you were here."

Charlie's smile faltered. "Had to come, as soon as I heard. I wasn't in time for the funeral, though."

Ginny nodded as she pulled away. "I'm sure Professor Dumbledore wouldn't be offended." She looked at Bill. "I saw Sturgis outside. What's he doing?"

"Strengthening the wards," Bill answered. When Ginny opened her mouth to question further, he quickly added, "It's nothing for you to be too worried about, Ginny."

He glanced at Charlie as he spoke, but by this point Ginny was very adept at comprehending when there was more than her brothers were telling (or allowed to tell). Bill realized this too, and warily he added, "Why don't you go finish unpacking? We'll have some lunch ready by the time you're done."

Ginny nodded and started back for the stairs. She glanced over her shoulder just as Bill and Charlie headed into the kitchen. She paused for a moment, listening carefully. For a moment all she could hear was the sound of someone scrubbing dishes.

"Mum?" Charlie asked tentatively. "Are you all right?"

The scrubbing paused, but no answer came.

"They'll be fine, Mum," Bill said in a reassuring voice. "They're better off there, in fact. Here we've got wards up and know if someone unwanted enters the boundaries, but the Burrow's protections are hardly infallible. The wards at the Dursleys' house, on the other hand, are much stronger. And we've got people watching Privet Drive 'round the clock."

There was still no answer, but the scrubbing resumed. Ginny sighed and returned up the stairs. Bill's attempt to at reassurance would not succeed. Their mother had not taken Ron's decision to accompany Harry to Privet Drive well at all. She hadn't wanted Harry to return there either, for that matter, but for some reason, this time even Harry was in accord with the Order. Having no real authority over him, Molly couldn't do much more than protest. Legally she had no authority over Ron either, who had come of age the previous March, but Ron respected his mother enough to make sure she would be all right with it. Molly had protested vehemently, not wanting Ron out of sight and certainly nowhere near Harry's relatives, but he had remained resolute.

She was unsure of how long she'd been in her room, considering everything that had happened that day, from splitting up with Harry to his vague disclosure. Sometimes she sat in melancholy, contemplative silence, either at her desk or on her bed; and sometimes she found herself pacing the length of her room, her mind racing. She became vaguely aware of the rain letting up, and that the sky had darkened a little, but she wasn't fully aware of how much time had passed until her mother knocked on her door, asked if she was done unpacking, and then ordered her to do a few chores outside.

Ginny was taken aback, but she discovered the reason for her unceremonious ejection from the house when she found Remus, Tonks, and Mad-Eye in the living room, and she could hear Kingsley and Hestia Jones talking to Arthur in the kitchen.

As she exited the house and wandered over into the garden, wondering why the Order had decided to have an impromptu meeting at the Burrow rather than at Grimmauld Place; but then she remembered that Snape knew the whereabouts of headquarters. The Order must have vacated the premises again.

Ginny looked up at the sky. It had stopped raining, but it was still somewhat foggy and very cold. She sat on a tree stump, shivering a little under the thick jumper she'd hastily pulled on as she left her room. A garden gnome wandered out of its hole and nibbled at some roots nearby. Not for the first time Ginny wondered how the tiny, hairless creature was so resilient to intense cold, but the frigid dampness seemed to bother her much more than the gnome. It became aware of her watching it and eyed her warily, but when Ginny made no move to remove the gnome, it shrugged its little shoulders and continued eating.

Ginny continued to watch the gnome until a light squelch of footsteps in damp earth met her ears, and she turned to see a man she didn't know standing nearby with his wand in hand. Startled, she instinctively drew her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried.

The man, who did look vaguely familiar, calmly blocked the spell, and smiled warmly as he put his wand away.

"Nice reflex," he grunted, and Ginny then recognized him as the barman from the Hog's Head. "Alastor would be proud. But start learning to cast spells nonverbally, and don't let yourself get caught off guard. Ginevra Weasley, I presume?"

He held a hand out to her, but Ginny didn't take it. The man chuckled.

"You can trust _me,_ girl. I'm with the Order, like everyone else in the vicinity."

"You can't get in without the Order knowing it," Ginny conceded, "but that doesn't mean you're harmless."

The man smiled. "Very true. You seem to know details about the protections you're not supposed to. Been listening at doors again, Ginny Weasley?" He chuckled at Ginny's unrepentant smirk. "Albus told me all about you and your siblings. Determined to play a role in this, regardless of how old you are." He looked at her with a strangely familiar twinkle in his eyes. "I can respect that. Aberforth Dumbledore, at your service."

Ginny inhaled sharply in surprise. "You're Professor Dumbledore's brother?"

"That's right."

Ginny shook his outstretched hand. "I'm sorry for your loss," she tentatively offered, but Aberforth waved this aside.

"Al knew what he was getting himself into. It was always a possibility." He spoke calmly, but Ginny could detect a small hint of sadness in his words.

"The service has only been over for a few hours," Ginny said. "Shouldn't you be getting things settled? You're his closest relative."

Aberforth shrugged. "Most of Al's affairs are already in order. What's left can wait. I'm here because Alastor's calling a meeting here."

"I know."

He laughed. "I'm guessing your mum chased you out here?" At Ginny's glum nod, he remarked, "Bit cold out here."

"I'm supposed to be de-gnoming."

He looked at the garden. "I see."

They were silent for a moment. Ginny was unsure of why Aberforth hadn't gone to join the meeting, but she realized that he was waiting for her to speak. Hesitantly, she said, "I overheard Bill and Charlie saying that D—that your brother left no instructions for the Order."

Aberforth looked unconcerned. "It's not that surprising, least not to someone who knew him well. Al always played his cards _very_ close to the chest. His experience with the Triskelions and Grindelwald taught him to work that way." At Ginny's questioning look, he clarified, "He learned to keep the biggest secrets within certain, limited circles. He often only shared his plans or knowledge with certain Order members, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he kept certain things from the Order entirely."

Surprised, Ginny asked, "Why?"

"When carrying out a crucial, secretive operation, sometimes it is more likely to succeed if you've got as few people in on it as possible," Aberforth explained.

To which Ginny added, "Because then there are fewer to blab."

"Exactly." Aberforth beamed at her. "You caught on much faster than many in the Order."

"I've been betrayed before," Ginny muttered under her breath.

But Aberforth heard her. Observing her cynical demeanor, he raised his eyebrows. "And that's why you're so accepting of whatever Potter's doing? Oh, don't look so surprised, girl. I knew my brother longer and better than anyone. It wasn't that difficult to work out."

"Then the Order _doesn't_ know?" She'd suspected as much, but to hear it confirmed was another thing entirely.

Aberforth nodded calmly. "They don't, and as you observed, won't be happy when they realize that Albus kept crucial details from them. Whatever the rest of the Order think, however, I'm not one to let age stand in the way of action. But I will say this: whatever Al intended, Potter will have a much harder time pulling it off, especially in secret, with the Order holing him up the way they intend to."

Ginny frowned. "What does that mean?"

"They can't use Grimmauld Place until there's a new Fidelius Charm in place," Aberforth informed her. "I suspect they're going to keep Potter here for a few days, until they're more confident in Grimmauld Place's security, and then sequester Potter there. I don't know what their plans are from there. But I bet I'll find out tonight."

Ginny thought over this, and then she frowned at Aberforth. "Why are you telling me this?"

Aberforth smiled grimly. "That's a fair question. The Order watches Potter nearly constantly, and they watch your family almost as constantly. They especially have been watching _you_ for the past couple of months."

Ginny blushed a little as his meaning became clear.

"Whatever _might_ have happened at the funeral, however, it is clear enough that Potter trusts you. _That_ is why I'm telling you this while I can."

He watched her closely as he spoke, and grinned. "With Hogwarts closing, a couple of people are left in need of employment, and Minerva has kindly hired them for the Order. One of them, an elf by the name of Dobby, has volunteered to carry messages to Privet Drive as needed. He likes Potter and the 'Wheezies' so much that I imagine he'd be happy to answer a call from any of you. Just for your information. And, quite possibly, Potter's."

He winked at her, and then turned and headed for the Burrow without another word, leaving Ginny in utter astonishment. But then a slow, determined grin appeared on her face, and she abruptly stooped down and seized the startled gnome by its ankles, now certain of what she must do.

* * *

"Mum doesn't want to face it," Ron told Harry. "Dumbledore's death hit the Order hard, but she's trying to act like nothing's changed."

Harry swallowed, his conscience aching at everything Ron had told him. The Weasleys were already in danger because of their pro-Muggle leanings; but their connection to him and to the Order had doubled that danger, to say nothing of the fact that Harry had dated their daughter for the past couple of months, something he (rather foolishly, in retrospect) hadn't bothered to hide.

As if he could hear Harry's train of thought, Ron frowned, and asked, "Does Ginny know?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't told Ron and Hermione about breaking off the relationship, and he worried about Ron's reaction. Unable to make eye contact, Harry asked, "About the Horcruxes?"

Ron nodded.

"No," Harry said firmly. "And she isn't going to."

"That's all good," Ron responded, frowning, "but from her point of view, you'll just have up and left one day. She's my sister. You bloody well better not hurt her."

"She knows that Dumbledore left me things to do," Harry reassured him. "Not sure what she suspects otherwise, though."

Ron opened his mouth, but whatever he intended to say, Harry didn't find out. At that moment, he heard a car pull into the drive, and started. He had completely forgotten about his uncle's impending arrival from work. Quickly he went to his window, and saw his uncle step out of the car and slam the door shut. The expression plastered on Vernon's face wasn't a good sign.

"He's home," he warned his friends. "And he's in a foul mood. Get your wands out."

"Harry, I'm not jinxing your uncle!" Hermione snapped. But she stood up and pulled her wand from her sleeve all the same.

They waited. Harry heard the front door slam, and his uncle's furious muttering carried all the way up the stairs. Ron too pulled his wand out with a sour expression. A moment later, they heard Petunia's muffled voice, though her words were also inaudible. Then—

"HE'S _WHAT_?"

They could hear rapid footsteps coming up the stairs, and Hermione looked at Harry in alarm.

"THAT RUDDY FREAK AND HIS LOT WON'T DARE SET FOOT IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN ONCE I'M THROUGH WITH HIM!"

The door flew open, prompting an indignant shriek from Hedwig. Ron immediately shouted "Protego!"

The force of the shield blasted Vernon back a couple of feet. He roared and tried to force his way into the room, but the shield remained firmly in place, blocking his access. He then froze when he saw Ron and Hermione both pointing their wands at him.

"Don't try that again," Harry said coldly. "Ron and Hermione are allowed to use magic outside of school. They will not hesitate if you bother me again. So do us all a favor: get out."

Vernon's face turned purple. "I will not be spoken to like that in my own house!"

"Yeah?" Harry shot back. "Try to stop me! You can't even set foot in this room!"

A vein pulsed in Vernon's temple, and he tried to step inside again, but Ron raised his wand higher, and the shield held.

"We won't be here for more than a couple of weeks," Harry informed his uncle coolly. "Then you're rid of me for good. I'm not coming back."

"Good riddance!" Vernon snapped. "But I'm still not having those freaks here, boy!"

Ron snorted. "Not much choice there mate."

"I AM TALKING!" Vernon bellowed.

" _I'M NOT LISTENING_!" Harry shouted back. "You're not in any position to make demands, and I refuse to take any more of your shit! _You'd_ better be listening, though, because I will not say this again! Leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone!"

He thought the vein in his uncle's temple might burst at this point, but Vernon was powerless, and he knew it. With no other option before him, he stepped from the door and stormed away. Ron flicked his wand, and the door slammed shut. Hermione lowered herself onto the chair at Harry's desk, and she stowed her wand back into her sleeve. She looked shocked.

"Harry, is he always like that?" she asked, swallowing.

Harry leaned against the door, lowering his head back against the wood. "Thankfully, no," he replied, though he was trembling a little. He inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm himself. "Normally he pretends I don't exist. Aunt Petunia acknowledges me… sometimes. But she normally doesn't have anything decent to say to me." Seeing Hermione's expression, he quickly added, "It's all right, though. Most of the time they ignore me. I prefer it that way."

"But they're your family!" Hermione protested, appalled. "You're _their_ family!"

Harry shook his head. "Nobody in this house really feels that way. Myself included." He spoke in a forced, indifferent voice. Looking to diffuse the tension, he gave Ron a wry grin. "Good thinking with the shield, by the way. He probably had a bad day at work. Cancelled shipment of drills or some other rubbish."

"I've seen your uncle's temper, mate," Ron replied, shrugging. "Figured it might be necessary."

* * *

Harry woke up early to a sharp tap on the window, and he sat up and glanced at his alarm clock, rubbing his eyes. It was 5:30. He yawned and looked at the window, expecting to see an owl there, but he couldn't see anything. He frowned and watched the window for a minute, but deciding that he probably was just hearing things, he lay back down.

There was another tap, and he sat up again, but he still couldn't see an owl. Confused, he slid out of bed and stepped over Ron's sleeping back, then looked out the window. He barely had time to notice something shift in the yard, before there was a loud crack at the window, reverberating on the glass, as something tiny and colorful suddenly popped into existence on top of the window sill, wavering over the edge.

Ron muttered something unintelligible.

Harry quickly opened the window and steadied the house-elf. "Dobby?" he hissed, annoyed. "What are you doing here at this hour?"

"Dobby apologizes for waking Harry Potter," the elf squeaked, sinking into a bow once he was in a safer position. "Professor Dumbledore's Order is sending Dobby to deliver messages."

"Messages?" Harry asked blankly.

"Yes, sir. Dobby has a letter from Professor Lupin and from Harry Potter's lady Wheezy!"

"My _what_?" Harry spluttered, feeling his face grow hot. He looked at Ron warily, but to his relief he remained sound asleep. He never would have lived this down if Ron had overheard.

"Does Harry Potter want his letters?" Dobby asked tentatively, showing him the two envelopes.

Harry said nothing, but he took the letters and examined them in the early morning light. Sure enough, one was addressed in Remus Lupin's tidy script, and the bulkier letter in Ginny's writing. "Thanks, Dobby."

"Professor Lupin also tells Dobby to bring Harry Potter and his friends food," the elf informed him. "The missus Wheezy will give it."

"Brilliant," Harry said, relieved. "It'll help avoid some tension. Thanks, Dobby."

Dobby bowed and Disapparated. The accompanying crack caused Ron to sit up abruptly.

"Whassamatter?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Nothing. Just Dobby with a couple of letters."

This didn't appear to really register with Ron. "Oh, okay," he mumbled. "… Couple of…"

He sank back into his pillow and began snoring again. Harry took a seat at his desk and looked at the two letters. Lupin's was the shorter, so Harry decided to read it first.

 _Harry—_

 _Kingsley saw the Carrow siblings wandering around Little Whinging after he took you home. We expected the Death Eaters to approach Privet Drive and already have determined that they shouldn't be able to approach your aunt's house, but as you know, that won't last after you turn seventeen. Bill Weasley will visit in the morning to check the strength of the wards and answer any questions you might have. In the meantime, do_ _not_ _leave Privet Drive._

 _Remus_

 _P.S. Don't use Hedwig to respond. Any Death Eaters in the area will try to intercept her and any other owls. Dobby has volunteered to carry messages. Just call for him if you need to contact us._

Harry moved back to the window to look out to the street apprehensively, but he didn't see anyone out there. He supposed he'd have to inform his aunt about this, but he didn't want to do so while Uncle Vernon was at home. Harry trusted the Order's protection, and he didn't think that the Death Eaters would attack his aunt or uncle when they left work or errands—not if they wished to remain inconspicuous, anyway—but his aunt at least needed to be informed.

With a final glance out the window, Harry settled back down at his desk, and picked up Ginny's letter. After glancing at her brother nervously, he broke the seal and began to read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope your aunt and uncle are treating you well, and I'm glad that Ron and Hermione are there with you this time. The rest of us are back and settled at home. There have been Order members here a lot too, setting up protective spells all over the Burrow. They've left Grimmauld Place again, as Snape can still appear there, but Mad-Eye's got plans to renew the charm soon. And on that subject, I've got information that should interest you._

Harry straightened in his chair.

 _Through the usual means I learned today that Hogwarts for sure is closing, which means that the Order can no longer use it as a sanctuary for you. I also found out that, for that exact reason, the Order is planning to move you to the Burrow next week some time, and they'll keep you holed up here until they are certain of Grimmauld Place's security, and then they intend to permanently move you there. They've been putting up protective spells all around the Burrow for that reason, including anti-Apparation and Disapparation wards. In both the Burrow and Grimmauld Place, I think the Floo Network and Portkeys are the only way in or out, and the Aurors are closely watching the use of both._

 _I'm not sure what their plans for you are otherwise, but for now their main intent seems to be keeping you hold up good and tight. Whatever you might be planning, if it's meant to be as secret as you implied, then we both know that you'll have a much harder time doing it with the Order restricting your movements in this way. I thought I'd warn you before you got here._

 _The other thing I want to say is that I meant everything I said to you at the funeral, and I understand your decision. I know you want to keep me safe, but as soon as I can, I intend to join this fight. I don't know where you'll be when that happens, but just remember one thing: this is my fight as much as it is yours. I need you to understand that. Hope to see you soon._

 _Love,_

 _Ginny_

Harry put the letter down and shut his eyes, unsure whether to smile or worry. Ginny's determination didn't surprise him at all, because she was simply not one to sit and wait for word. She was would never be the housewife waiting at home for the men to return from war; and Harry, knowing this of her, could not ask her to be that.

But there was also the more immediate problem, and Harry sighed in frustration. He'd half-expected the Order to do something like this, but it would indeed make the search for the Horcruxes more difficult. It would be hard enough with the Order dogging him, which he was certain they would attempt; and that certainly would make it harder to act without drawing unwanted attention to himself, from the Ministry of Magic or worse. It would be next to impossible to act holed up without confessing to the Order what he was doing, but that was out of the question. Dumbledore had made that abundantly clear.

" _The Order will have their own role to play, but in matters as crucial as this, they are too exposed, too easily watched. For Voldemort to learn that you and I know about the Horcruxes would be disastrous. It would only take one betrayal, one captured person breaking either to torture or to Legilimency, one person spotted in the wrong place, one word in the wrong place. You cannot risk it. Even if you lose the trust of those you care about, you_ _cannot_ _risk it."_

Harry swallowed as he remembered those words, spoken just after he finally learned what Horcruxes were. It would be so much simpler if they could confide in the Order, but for Voldemort to learn what they were up to, and relocate his Horcruxes (or, worse, create a seventh), would set all Dumbledore's work back ten or twenty or even fifty years. The thought of dragging on this conflict for such an extended period was too terrible to contemplate.

Just as he made a mental note to inform Ron and Hermione about Ginny's letter, the latter entered the room herself, staring at Ron in annoyance. Seeing Harry awake, she asked grumpily, "Does he always snore this loud?"

Harry smirked. "Usually, yeah. You share a dormitory with him for six years, though, and you can sleep through anything."

"Then why are you awake?"

"Dobby." Harry held up the letters. "They're from Lupin and Ginny. The Order's not sending anything with owls anymore. Apparently they've seen a couple of Death Eaters in the area."

A look of alarm briefly flitted across Hermione's face, but she retained her composure, and said in a tone of forced calm, "So that's what Hestia was going on about. But they think we're safe for now? Otherwise they'd have moved us out immediately."

Harry nodded, then handed her Ginny's letter. "I think you'd better see this too."

She scanned its contents, and then slowly lowered the letter, looking at Harry with an unreadable expression. "This complicates things," she said wryly.

"How easily could we leave Grimmauld Place unnoticed?" asked Harry.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "I don't know enough about the protections there to tell you."

"Could you find out?"

Hermione grimaced. "I'd have to go there to check it out. That is, if you're ruling out straight-out asking an Order member."

"But we shouldn't ask for too many details," Harry said, "or they might get suspicious."

Hermione's brow furrowed into a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps Ginny can be of help there, since she was willing to send prior warning."

"Prior warning about what?"

Harry and Hermione jumped. Neither of them had noticed Ron wake up. He pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes wearily. Hermione recovered first, and handed Ron the letter.

"Bloody hell," he breathed as soon as he finished reading it. "How are we going to get started with this going on?"

"And we can't openly plan things either at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place," Harry added. "Not with the Order watching my every move."

" _And_ we can't set out before Harry's seventeen," Hermione sighed. "Just another spanner in the works." However, she was clearly thinking hard. "I'll start researching magical transportation. There's got to be _something_ we can do to get around this."

And with that, she left the room. Harry, by now used to Hermione leaving abruptly when she needed to find information, simply looked back at Ron, who shrugged.

"She's right about one thing, though," he said. "The Order will probably be less suspicious about Ginny getting nosy than you. Especially since she's always nosing around anyway."

"I don't want to get her too involved in this," Harry said cautiously.

"This won't require you telling her about the Horcruxes, or bringing her," Ron pointed out. "And she'll want to help."

This was true, and he knew Hermione was probably right. "All right," he relented. "I'll talk to her about it as soon as I next see her."

Ron nodded. Harry reached forward to take back the letter; but Ron, having observed Harry's odd reluctance to even involve Ginny in this smaller matter, did not hand it back. He then looked back at the close of the letter. Harry swallowed.

"Harry, what's she talking about in this last bit?"

Harry looked away guiltily. "She's not going to stand on the sidelines, that's all."

"I know that's what she's saying," Ron said impatiently. "Wouldn't be like Ginny to hang back and wait for us to come home like a good little girl. But there was something off with her after the funeral, and with you. What happened between the two of you?"

Harry didn't answer, but Ron didn't seem to require it. Putting two and two together, he finally said, "You broke up with her, didn't you?"

Harry shifted nervously. Ron looked back at the letter, and then back at Harry with understanding mingled with exasperation.

"You're a prat," he said coolly, "but that explains why she didn't sit with us on the train back, and why you two barely said a word to each other in King's Cross." Seeing Harry's apprehension, he laughed humorlessly. "I'm not going to hex you, if that's what you're afraid of. The Ministry can track any magic she does until she comes of age next year, so you can't take her with you. Anyway, you promised that you wouldn't tell anyone else about the Horcruxes. Still, where she's concerned, you'll have a lot to answer for when this is over."

"And when will that be?" asked Harry unhappily. "This probably will take years. We're not going to be finding Horcruxes every other day, and I'm not sure how to destroy them either. And anyway, you know that we might not ever come back."

"Don't talk like that," Ron snapped.

"Why not?" retorted Harry. "We're at war! It's a perfectly realistic possibility. People go out to fight; they don't always come back. I've said it before, most of the stuff I've done, the times I've thwarted or escaped Voldemort, was luck! At some point, my luck might run out."

Ron shook his head stubbornly. "No," he said firmly. "I'm not going to let you go out there convinced that you're gonna die. Otherwise you might find a way to make it happen."

Harry blinked, and raised his eyebrows. "When did _you_ get all insightful?"

Ron pretended to look indignant, then with a sheepish laugh, admitted, "Sirius said something like that to us, summer before fifty year."

"Way back then? And you still remember it?"

"Prat."

"Git."

But they were grinning at each other.


	3. Status quo ante bellum

**.**

 **Chapter Two  
** **Status quo ante bellum**

* * *

"So how many are out here?" Harry asked Bill.

Though the overcast skies of the previous day had cleared, it was still a bitterly cold morning. Even so, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gone out early to meet with Bill Weasley, who, just as Lupin's letter had promised, arrived to double check the protections around Privet Drive. It was still early, as Bill hoped to complete the inspection before the Muggle families became too busy with their morning routines.

Bill, who sported deep scarring from Fenrir Greyback's attack, checked the silver analog instrument in his hand, a device quite unknown to Harry, probably an instrument from the curse-breaker's line of work. He didn't answer Harry's question immediately, presumably preoccupied with whatever reading he was getting, but after a moment's silence, he looked up with a satisfied expression.

"We know the Carrows are hiding out somewhere nearby, but we haven't spotted anyone else yet. From what we've observed in the past couple of years, nobody with a Dark Mark can get within roughly two hundred yards of your aunt's house." Pointing ahead, Bill added, "Which means that Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent are safe, but you should not go beyond that."

"But they'll know roughly where Harry's aunt lives?" asked Ron, as they turned onto Wisteria.

"Privet Drive's not Unplottable," Bill explained. "It still shows up on any Muggle map. So yes, they'll know exactly where Harry lives. They simply can't approach it yet."

"So what does that mean for me and the Dursleys?" asked Harry. "Because the protection breaks when I'm seventeen, right?"

"Yes, or as soon as you move out," Bill told him. "Which I believe you're planning on doing as soon as possible."

Harry nodded, but before anyone could say anymore, a rapid ticking sound met their ears, and Bill paused, looking at the instrument. A little hand on its upper facet had started bouncing rapidly, producing the sound.

"What does that mean?" asked Hermione tentatively.

Bill looked around sharply. "Someone unwanted tried to enter and got repulsed."

Immediately, Harry, Ron, and Hermione also started looking around in alarm. However, the sound stopped and Bill looked back at his instrument.

"But the wards are holding. Good to know that they work. And it's not the first time this has occurred. The Death Eaters are not very patient, and I imagine they'll be testing the boundaries for weaknesses."

"Should we turn back?" asked Ron nervously.

"We're perfectly safe," Bill reassured him. "And I imagine the Order will have already sent a couple of people to try to find out who attempted to get in."

"But when did you alert them?" asked Hermione in surprise. "And how would you know _where_ the disturbance took place?"

Bill smirked. "We may or may not have added a couple of surprises for the Death Eaters." Then he looked at Harry seriously. "But it all collapses when Privet Drive is no longer your home. Or your aunt's, for that matter."

Harry frowned. "What does that mean?"

"It means that to ensure your safety and the Dursleys' safety, they're going to have to leave Privet Drive at the same time as you," Bill answered with a wry smile.

"To where?" asked Harry. "And for how long?"

"Kingsley and Mad-Eye are setting something up," Bill assured him. "But as for how long, most likely until all this is over."

"Indefinitely, then." Harry grimaced. "They'll never agree to it."

"Of course they will," Bill said firmly. "They'll have no choice. We'll make sure of it."

Harry looked at him questioningly, but said nothing. Bill looked at his instrument again, and smiled, looking very satisfied. "Well, I think we're in good shape. Let's head back. The wards are holding, but I'll see you home, just in case."

As he led them back towards Privet Drive, Ron asked, "So how is everyone at home?"

"Fine, more or less. Mum's worrying herself sick these days. Luckily the wedding's keeping her fairly occupied." Bill grinned as he spoke of his upcoming nuptials.

"What about you?" asked Ron tentatively, and Harry knew he was talking about his brother's facial wounds.

This was not lost on Bill either, who, indicating the cuts, said unconcernedly, "They'll produce impressive scarring, but the story behind it is equally impressive. At any rate, in a couple of days I'm going to France to visit the Delacours for a couple of weeks. Fleur insists that some Mediterranean air will help them heal."

"Ooh, where are you staying?" asked Hermione eagerly.

"They've got a house near Marseilles," Bill answered, as they turned back around the corner. "I'm hoping to get a private meeting with Menger Gadlak before heading over there. More playing diplomat for the Order."

"Gadlak?" Ron asked in mild surprise. "The goblin family? Don't they run Gringotts?"

"Yeah. Mr. Gadlak's my boss. I'm hoping to convince him to get me an audience with his father. If we could get Cerdik Gadlak on our side, it would be a huge advantage for the Order."

"Are the goblins against Voldemort?" Harry asked.

If Bill was startled by Harry's use of the name, he didn't show it. "Hard to say," he said slowly. "The goblins are not the most forthcoming society in the world, and they have their own political conflicts which may complicate things. But if we could convince at least a couple of members of the High Council to give us support, it would aid our cause enormously. Well, here we are."

They were back at Number Four.

"Thanks for dropping by, Bill," Harry said.

"No problem. It's actually a bit nice to get away from the Burrow for half an hour," Bill said, grinning. "Pity it has to end with conferencing with goblins, however." He grimaced at the thought. "Just try negotiating with tight-lipped goblins while trying to avoid getting too tangled in Tylwthteg intrigues. Because once you're entangled in goblin politics, it's extremely difficult to extricate yourself."

* * *

It was said to be one of the crown jewels of goblin civilization, standing proudly upon its anient site as the capital of the goblin nation of Tylwthteg. Built of a strange yet magnificent mixture of medieval and Celtic-looking architecture, Danduaith Castle was situated on a mountainside near Glaslyn Lake in Wales, hidden (like all goblin settlements) from non-magical eyes. Said to be second in beauty only to Hogwarts School, the castle and its surrounding community had been the seat of the Tylwthteg High Council for hundreds of years; but this prestige and the castle's majesty, like all sources of goblin cultural pride, belied Tylwthteg's real position within the magical world.

Perhaps such contrasts between pride and reality were at the heart of Tylwthteg's growing restlessness.

The High Council, a body of oligarchical goblin rulers who were not rulers, who proudly boasted of their stations in the upper echelons of Tylwtheg, yet ran their Council sessions in English, met weekly in peaceful times; but of late their meetings, particular those of the upper Council of Sixteen, kept in a secure chamber deep within the castle, became an almost daily occurrence.

But if the restlessness of Tylwthteg indicated their readiness to take their place in the conflict with Lord Voldemort, the proceedings of the Sixteen shattered that illusion.

"Lord Chairman," the Councilman from Abranthal concluded, after a ten minute discourse on the humans' conflict, "in spite of the recent casualties, it is my opinion that there is no immediate threat to the residents of Tymnothran, and that the casualties were merely retributive acts for the hasty and ill-conceived actions of the Gringotts management."

At the other end of the table Cerdik Gadlak, the object of this criticism, bristled. There was an outbreak of muttering on the part of the other Councilmen, some in support of these remarks, others in indignation. But Gadlak knew well the proceedings of the Sixteen, having been on the Council himself for many years, and remained silent.

"I therefore recommend," came the Councilman's conclusion, "that we take no further action until there is reason to believe the attack truly was directed against Tylwthteg. That is all."

He took his seat, and a friend and ally happily patted his shoulder.

At the head of the table sat Dagnar Trawlak, Chairman of the Sixteen, in all the dignity his rank afforded him, for this position made him an unofficial head of state, equal in eminence to the Minister of Magic. In deference to his rank, Trawlak offered no comment, instead looking over the rest of the Sixteen and asking coolly, "Is there any response to Mr. Ansalvik's remarks?"

Gadlak stood. The Speaker for the Council announced, "The Council of Sixteen recognizes Cerdik Gadlak of Tymnothran."

"Thank you, Mr. Speaker," Gadlak responded, in compliance with the customs, before he thus began:

"In spite of the reservations that the Councilman from Abranthal has expressed"—he leveled a cold look at Ansalvik—"I feel obliged to bring the Council's attention back to the political and financial tensions between Tylwthteg and the Wizarding State of Great Britain and Ireland." He looked over the rest of the Council, who remained silent. "I'm sure that you are all aware of the immense pressure that Minister Rufus Scrimgeour has placed upon Gringotts to exonerate the exorbitant debts that the Fudge administration acquired, in light of the present political situation."

At this, he observed righteous indignation return to the expressions of many Councilmen, which he had expected. Satisfied, he continued:

"Scrimgeour has also been arranging meetings with me with unusual frequency lately, both concerning the Fudge debts and his determination to root out any potential Death Eater supporters from among Tylwthteg."

Here Ansalvik interrupted, "The very idea that any among us would involve ourselves is preposterous."

Gadlak ignored him. "I've also learned, from a credible source, that the Scrimgeour administration will not send Aurors to help protect Tylwthteg settlements from any potential Death Eater attacks unless the High Council promises aid, our unswerving loyalty, to British wizardry in this crisis, should the Ministry ever call for it."

This sent a visible frisson, whether of surprise or increased indignation, among the other Councilmen. Gadlak looked at Ansalvik pointedly.

"Is it so unbelievable, sir," he asked, addressing Ansalvik directly, "that even ifyou believe Tylwthteg has no dog in this fight, that the Ministry of Magic might drag us into the fight regardless of what you think? If we maintain the neutrality you advocate, however, then it is still vital that we negotiate a settlement that allows Tylwthteg to employ its own taskforce for the protection of its own people."

"Whether or not Scrimgeour truly has made such demands, Mr. Gadlak, " Ansalvik said stubbornly, "it is also quite believable that he is mounting so much pressure upon you because you, as the owner and proprietor of Gringotts, are the most accessible Tylwthteg Councilman to British wizarding society. But regardless of Scrimgeour's demands, do you not still have a hold over the Ministry because of their debts? Are these demands truly so threatening to you or to Tylwthteg?"

"If the Ministry's demands were all I had to worry about, I might agree with you," Gadlak conceded. "But the Death Eaters are putting pressure on me too. I do not deny that they killed several of my employees because I froze the assets of all the known Death Eaters. I remind you that the Wizengamot would have demanded that I do so anyway. The timing of my actions is neither here nor there."

"I respectfully disagree," Ansalvik said coldly. "The Death Eaters may have seen your initiative as provocative."

"You can bury your head in the sand all you like," retorted Gadlak, "but that does not change the fact that they despise that magical economy is under goblin control."

"When have wizards ever been happy about that?" asked Ansalvik. "I don't see why that means we need to take more stringent action in a conflict that does not concern us."

"Thank you, Ansalvik, for your fine demonstration on how Tylwthteg has completely lost its sovereignty," snapped Gadlak. "Mr. Chairman, after all that we have heard today, I cannot but wonder why the High Council, the sworn protectors of the people of Tylwthteg, has remained silent as the Councilman from Abranthal maintains a position we know to be useful to no one except Tylwthteg's enemies."

Enraged, Ansalvik leapt to his feet. "Are you questioning my loyalty?"

"Oh no," Gadlak coldly retorted. "I wouldn't go so far as that. There's quite a different word for someone with the intelligence and backbone of a Flobberworm, such as yourself. That word is _coward_."

Immediately Ansalvik and his supporters began shouting. Trawlak slammed his gavel loudly, repeatedly, bellowing for order. Once the Council quieted, Trawlak slammed it again. "That will do. Mr. Gadlak, you are out of line. Mr. Ansalvik, _sit down_."

He looked at Ansalvik warningly. Still muttering angrily, Ansalvik obeyed.

"This is going nowhere," Trawlak said firmly. "We shall reconvene in three hours, when all of you have had time to consider what has been said here, and to recover your composure. When we do reconvene"—He looked at both Gadlak and Ansalvik pointedly—"I expect all of you to conduct yourselves in a civil and rational manner."

Still grumbling, the Sixteen dispersed. Trawlak remained, gathering his papers, but presently became aware that he was not alone in the chamber, and he looked up to see that Cerdik Gadlak had remained.

"Mr. Gadlak," Trawlak acknowledged him cordially.

"I apologize," Gadlak said contritely. "That was unproductive."

Trawlak raised his eyebrows. "I accept your apology, but that is hardly why you have lingered."

If Gadlak was surprised at this, he didn't show it. "The High Council may be full of halfwits sticking their heads in the sand," Gadlak said urgently, "but surely _you_ understand that the Death Eaters have no more love for our kind than they do for Muggles."

"Which is why you want to put an end to the situation early," said Trawlak, "before they start systematically killing citizens of Tylwthteg."

Gadlak said nothing, but Trawlak had pinned him accurately. Then, in a softer, more sympathetic voice, Trawlak added, "Our situation may not be the same as Koboldrang's during the Triskelion war."

"Mr. Trawlak, they have already killed some of our people," Gadlak protested. "Four of my employees are dead, and I'm sure you haven't forgotten the murder of the Grimrooks during the first war."

Trawlak bowed his head, but remarked, "Ansalvik does have a point, you know. That's not evidence that the Death Eaters intend on doing the same as Grindelwald."

"There's no disputing the fact that the Death Eaters intend to exterminate Muggle-borns," Gadlak insisted, "and that they treat house-elves like vermin and Muggles like animals. We have no reason to believe that they'll treat goblins any better. Anyone who says otherwise is a fool."

Trawlak sighed. "Cerdik, if you have any ideas for a more definitive course of action, then I'm open to hearing it," he told Gadlak earnestly. "Of course, I cannot override the Sixteen should they come to a decision. You must prepare yourself for that possibility."

Gadlak threw up his hands in frustration, but before he could retort, Trawlak added, "But I do not want to be the head of the Council that took action only when massive Tylwthteg casualties required us to. While I personally cannot act now, I can say this: wherever your own preparation leads you, that is your own concern. I will not obstruct you. Do not, however, implicate the Council."

Gadlak stared at him for a moment, before a strange, calculating expression appeared on his face. Smiling, he bowed his head to Trawlak, and left the council chambers.

* * *

Because she was able to without bringing the Ministry of Magic's wrath upon herself, in the next few days Hermione occasionally Disapparated out of Privet Drive since Bill's visit, generally to visit Flourish and Blotts or other shops in Diagon Alley in search of a solution to their more immediate problem of getting out from under the Order's thumb. While she discussed her findings, few that there were, with Harry and Ron, they themselves were left with little else to do except discuss what Harry remembered from Dumbledore's lessons, or else browse through Harry's numerous books on defensive and offensive magic, highlighting certain spells they thought would be useful to learn during their search. When they fancied a break from this, they typically spent time finding other means of entertainment.

On a cloudy morning some five days into their visit, Hermione sat at the desk with her nose in the _Daily Prophet_ as Harry and Ron played Exploding Snap. After some time in silence, Hermione lowered the paper with a sigh.

"What's up?" asked Harry, concerned. "What's in there today?"

"Nothing except the Ministry insisting that the Aurors are making headway."

Bemused, Harry asked, "Nothing else?"

"Nothing," Hermione confirmed. "No Dark Marks, no Dementor attacks, nothing."

"What's so bad about that?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Just… it's been nearly two weeks since Professor Dumbledore died. But Voldemort's been quiet since then. I'd have thought they'd be getting bolder now. It's just… strange."

Harry said nothing. He'd noticed the strange lack of Death Eater activity too. Voldemort's most formidable enemy was dead, yet all they'd heard since then was that a couple of Death Eaters had stationed themselves near Privet Drive, who undoubtedly were keeping inconspicuous for the present time. But Harry had supposed that he, in his more isolated position, simply might not have heard much.

The sound of a car door slamming caught his attention, and standing, he went to the window in time to see Vernon drive away. This reminded him of the conversation with Bill and the Dursleys' impending relocation. Harry still hadn't warned Petunia of this, having not found a moment to do so without Vernon somewhere nearby. But now he could hear Petunia still moving around downstairs.

He looked at Ron and Hermione and quickly mumbled, "I'll be right back," before quickly exiting his room. He took no notice of their questioning expressions as he did.

He found his aunt on the phone with a neighbor. As he approached, she turned around and saw him standing there. Her mouth curled into a scowl as he pointed to the lounge and mouthed, "Can I have a word?"

She gave a curt nod before returning to the phone. "No, apparently he's engaged. No, I didn't say he was engaged to a woman. I know, he'll be waiting a long time. His auntie's devastated, naturally. If my Dudders knew he'd be appalled."

Harry listened to his aunt's gossip as he lowered himself into an armchair, wondering where she would be in a few weeks' time. He then choked down a laugh as he imagined Petunia exchanging local gossip with neighbors in the Bahamas or Brazil or China or wherever they ended up. A taste of foreign culture might do his aunt and uncle good, except he had a feeling they would both die from shock at the thought of living abroad.

A couple of minutes passed before Petunia stepped into the lounge, her arms tightly folded. "What is it?"

Harry swallowed down his nerves. "I'm supposed to talk to you about moving out."

"Which is when?"

"I don't know. Next week, probably."

"Some good news at last," Petunia said churlishly.

"Right." Harry hesitated. "There's… er… something you ought to know before we leave."

Petunia raised an eyebrow.

"You're aware of the situation, right?"

"You're little war?" Petunia asked scathingly.

Harry was a little relieved that she was quicker on the uptake than Vernon or Dudley, but frowned at her tone. But feeling it best to come straight to the point, he said, "The protective enchantments are supposed to break as soon as I leave. I've also been told that some of Voldemort's followers have taken up camp somewhere in Little Whinging."

Petunia immediately blanched. Her voice shaking both with fury and with fear, she hissed, "Then it is your responsibility to make sure _we_ don't come to any harm."

Harry inhaled deeply, trying to muster his patience, and he calmly told her, "Dumbledore's people are going to arrange something. I don't know the details yet, but I think they're going to relocate you."

Petunia's face, impossibly, became paler. "They want us to move away?" she demanded. Her outraged tone made it evident exactly what she thought of the idea.

"It's safer than staying here," Harry retorted.

"Vernon will never agree to it," Petunia snapped. "And anyway, this is _my_ home! This is where we established ourselves! Why can't they just put up new protections."

Frustrated, Harry stood and glared at her. " _Now_ you're accepting magic?" he almost yelled.

Petunia, unimpressed, merely scowled right back. Recognizing that raising his voice wouldn't help, Harry took several deep breaths to calm himself down. And several more. Then, trying a different tactic, he finally said, "It just wouldn't be as effective. Relocation is safer for you and for Dudley."

This did the trick. Harry waited while Petunia turned this over in her head, but he knew that he had her. There was nothing she wouldn't be persuaded to do for Dinky Diddydums. She presently sat on the sofa, looking defeated, and asked, "Where will they send us?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted. "They haven't told me. I'm telling you this now, because it'd be better if you gave Uncle Vernon a heads-up, and persuaded him that this is the best course of action." He shook his head. "He's already unhappy enough with me as it is. But making my life difficult won't change the fact that Voldemort likely will attack this house as soon as the protections break, and Dumbledore's people are going to move you before that happens. You'd be saving all of us a lot of wasted breath if you'd make sure Uncle Vernon understands that."

Looking resigned, Petunia only nodded, and Harry, his goal accomplished, returned to his room.

In the next couple of days following this conversation, Harry finally heard from Lupin that some of the Order would come to relocate both Harry and the Dursleys on the following Monday, the day Dudley came home from Smeltings. Harry hardly said a word to his aunt in the meantime, except to inform her of this development. He and Vernon had had nothing to say to each other.

The day of the relocation arrived, a wet, dismal morning on which Vernon got up and drove out early, intending to bring Dudley home by the early afternoon. He did so with exceptional timing, pulling back into the drive at nearly noon, but by then the rain had not let up, pouring in freezing torrents that forced him and his son to dash to the house to dry off. The cold, ungenial weather had immensely dampened the mood of both, boding ill for the rest of the day.

Vernon, in his stubborn refusal to accept anything Harry had told him, had said nothing to Dudley about Harry's news or even of his presence, so Harry's appearance at the top of the stairs at the moment of Dudley's arrival, holding onto one end of his trunk, was an unpleasant surprise.

"Why is _he_ here?" Dudley demanded, spotting his cousin. "I usually get home first"-

But he stopped talking abruptly when Ron appeared behind Harry, holding the other end of the trunk. His eyes widened in surprise, and he backed against the wall, evidently trying to make himself as unnoticeable as possible. Seeing Ron, Vernon barked at Harry, "I thought I told you freaks to keep out of the way!"

"We're just getting ready to go," Harry said coolly. "Relax."

"No, I won't relax!" Vernon snarled. "Because this ruddy well means that more of you freaks are coming to send us away, doesn't it?"

Dudley started. "What d'you mean, send us away?"

Vernon ignored him. "I'm not having it, boy! I told you, I refuse to accept it!"

But before he or Harry could say anymore, Petunia appeared in the hallway, having heard the yelling. Spotting Dudley, she rushed to Dudley and enveloped him in a tight hug.

"Come into the kitchen, Dudders," she gushed. "I've got your lunch ready."

Dudley wasn't having it. "Mum, what are they talking about?" he asked anxiously. "They're saying the freaks are sending us away?"

Petunia rushed Dudley out of the hallway without answering. Ron glowered after them.

"'Freaks,'" he growled, offended. "If I hear that word one more time…"

"Ignore it," Harry quietly advised him. "Let's just get Hedwig in her cage."

They hadn't made it two steps up the stairs before Vernon yelled, "Now just a minute1 I'm not through with you, boy!"

But Ron drew his wand and started fingering it warningly, silencing Vernon abruptly, which allowed Harry to return to his room with little more than a cold "Whatever," to his uncle.

Vernon, in equal doses of stubbornness and stupidity, continued to try to argue his way out of the impending relocation, but Harry, refusing to speak any further on the matter, simply shut himself in his room with Ron and Hermione, leaving it to Mad-Eye, when he arrived, to convince his uncle. They did not have long to wait, however. The Order, evidently watching for Dudley's arrival, appeared at the door themselves barely half an hour later. After hearing the rap on the door, and Hermione confirming from the window that it was indeed the Order, Harry gave Hedwig an owl treat, closed her cage, and put on his rucksack.

As he and Ron and Hermione got ready to leave, they could hear muffled voices, and as they, bags and owl cage in hand, stepped out into the hall, they could distinctly hear Vernon's angry voice:

"I just don't believe you! I think you just want us out of the way because you weirdos want my business! Or my house!"

Harry came down the stairs in time to see Vernon shaking his fist at Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, both of whom looked completely unconcerned. Petunia and Dudley were cowering by the kitchen door.

"That," Moody snorted, "was the stupidest thing I've ever heard, Dursley. And I've spent half my life hunting down stupid people. Well done." He then spotted Harry, Ron, and Hermione on the stairs. "There you are. Come on, let's get this over with."

Kingsley's kept his attention to the Dursleys. Beckoning to the lounge, he asked politely, "Shall we all have a seat?"

Vernon swelled in fury. "This is my house!" he shouted. "You have no right coming here and acting like you own the place! I demand that you leave at once! And take the boy with you! Lazy, freaky layabouts, trying to move into this"—

But he didn't get another word across before Moody suddenly drew his wand, so quickly that Vernon didn't register it.

"Silencio!"

Vernon gasped, his mouth moving in attempts to continue shouting, but he couldn't get the smallest sound out.

"What have you done to him?" shrieked Petunia.

Losing patience completely, Moody snapped, "What does it look like, woman? Unless you want me to do the same to _you,_ you'll shut up too!"

An outraged Vernon, still trying hard to shout, waved his fists about wildly, but Moody aimed his wand at him threateningly. "Do you want me to jinx your arms to your sides as well as shut you up?" He pointed at the lounge. "Now get into that room and _sit down!_ "

He shouted this last bit. Both Vernon and Petunia quailed. Dudley tried hard to hide behind them with considerable difficulty. As the three of them slinked into the lounge, Harry, shifting in embarrassment, whispered to Kingsley, "Can't we just go?"

"Not yet," Kingsley said. "I believe Bill ran the details by you already."

"But Uncle Vernon won't go, and even if you persuade him, they're not packed."

"Leave that to us." Kingsley waved his wand at the front door. Looking back at Harry, he added, "While they're in the lounge, the won't be able to hear anything going on in the hall. Now stay here and answer the door."

With that, Kingsley followed Moody and the Dursleys into the lounge. Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" asked Ron.

Before anyone could speculate on this, however, they heard another sharp knock on the door. Harry looked at the others, before hesitantly putting his hand on the doorknob and pulled the door open. He relaxed immediately.

"Wotcher, Harry!" Nymphadora Tonks greeted cheerfully. "Let us in, will you? I'm nipping."

She pushed past Harry before he could respond. Remus Lupin followed her, placing a warm hand on Harry's shoulder momentarily.

"What're you two doing here?" asked Ron, grinning.

"Nice to feel wanted," quipped Tonks, shoving Ron's shoulder playfully.

"We're the Dursleys' escort," Remus explained.

Harry's face fell, and he looked at the other room, where they could hear raised voices.

"They're not willing or ready," he told Remus. "They haven't packed yet or anything."

Tonks smirked. "Thought as much. Another reason we're here." She looked at her watch. "I'll give it five minutes before they start actually listening to Kingsley and Mad-Eye. Let's have their stuff ready by then. Harry, where are their bedrooms?"

Taken aback, Harry stammered, "Um, up the stairs, first door to the right, second to the left."

"Got it," Tonks said cheerfully, before bounding up the stairs, Remus close behind her.

By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione caught up with them, Remus and Tonks were already inside Vernon and Petunia's bedroom, Remus pulling a large suitcase from an upper shelf in the closet, scattering dust everywhere. He then waved his wand, clearing the dust, before opening the suitcase.

"This ought to simplify things," Remus said, waving his wand. " _Extendo interiora_."

Harry couldn't see that this made any difference to the suitcase, but before he could ask anything, Tonks waved her wand in a long, sweeping motion, crying " _Pack!"_

Harry had to step out of the way from the sudden whirlwind of clothes and jewelry that swept through the bedroom, pulled from the closet, the chest of drawers, and Petunia's vanity, piling into the suitcase. As she worked, Remus stepped out of the room. "Hermione, Ron, let's go take care of Dudley's room."

Within seconds, the bedroom had been stripped down, so that only the furniture remained.

" _Accio laundry!_ " Tonks cried, pointing her wand at the door. "Well, that ought to do it," she said, looking around the room with satisfaction. Harry ducked as the last of the Dursleys' clothes zoomed through the door and into the suitcase with a soft thud. Tonks, grinning happily, closed the suitcase and wheeled it into the hall. She then led the way to Dudley's room, where she and Harry found Remus looking around at all the electronic equipment with a thoughtful expression.

"We can't find any other suitcases here," Hermione told her.

"No matter," Tonks said. "The one we just packed will have enough room." She quickly stepped back into the hall and wheeled the suitcase back in, zipping it open. Remus picked up Dudley's new laptop and looked at Hermione questioningly. She nodded, and he put this into the trunk cautiously. Remus then waved his wand in a similar sweeping motion, but nonverbally. Soon all the clothes and CDs flew into the magically-extended suitcase, followed by smaller electronic devices like the portable CD player. Hermione finished off the rushed packing by putting electronic cables into the suitcase. Satisfied, Tonks closed the suitcase again and began levitating it with a wave of her wand.

They could still hear voices in the lounge by the time they reached the front door. Remus held open the door as Tonks levitated the suitcase out and deposited it onto the porch. She then wheeled it to the Dursleys' car. It was still raining hard, but neither Remus nor Tonks seemed bothered by the icy downpour. In fact, Harry realized as he looked down the street, the downpour was a stroke of good luck, as none of the Muggles seemed to be about. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched as Tonks pointed her wand at the boot of the car, and then opened it. Remus came up behind her and the two of them carefully hoisted the suitcase into the boot and slammed it shut.

Returning to the entryway, Tonks grinned in satisfaction. "Right. How much time passed?"

Harry looked at his watch. "Only a couple of minutes."

"Hah!" Tonks grinned happily. She then looked towards the lounge. "We've done our bit, then. Let's see how they're doing in there."

Harry was surprised and relieved to find, as they entered the lounge, that Vernon was no longer shouting, and not because anyone had struck him with a Silencing spell. In fact, he sat quietly in an armchair, Petunia and Dudley on the sofa nearby, looking weak and pale. Mad-Eye still had his wand out, but seemed at ease.

"But what about my job?" he stammered to Kingsley, who sat in the other armchair.

Kingsley smiled. "Did you not recently receive a lucrative offer last week for a chief exeutive position at a drill firm in Canada?" he asked, causing Vernon's eyes to widen in shock. "It would require your removal from Britain, I believe."

"How did you know about that?" Vernon demanded.

"Because we arranged it, you dolt," Mad-Eye said with a smirk. "And before you say you'll turn it down, Columbia Drilling has already received your letters and paperwork accepting their offer. Grunnings, meanwhile received your letter of resignation after you left to pick up your son this morning." Smirking at Vernon's stunned expression, he added, "Oh, and we also modified all your colleagues' memories to make them think you've been planning this transition for weeks."

Again outraged, Vernon snapped, "How dare you interfere in my career?" Spotting Remus and Tonks, he added, "And who are these two?"

"Now, then, be civil," Mad-Eye mock-scolded them. "They and Kingsley have, after all, kindly agreed to escort you safely to Heathrow Airport in a few minutes. They all took time off work for this, so you'd better be on your best behavior on the way there." He then leveled a warning look at Vernon in particular. "If you're not, I will know. And I will turn all of you into cow pies."

Harry turned away to hide his amused smirk, missing the abject horror that had crossed his aunt and uncle's faces. His job done, Moody limped over in Harry's direction.

"Now," he said over his shoulder, 'I think we're done here. We should be off as soon as possible."

"You'll get the details on the way," Kingsley added for the Dursleys' benefit.

"Potter," Mad-Eye barked. "With me. I'll send your stuff ahead. And we'll send the Dursleys off first."

He stepped past Harry and into the hall, waving his wand at his trunk. There was a swooshing sound and the trunk vanished. Mad-Eye then wordlessly led Harry, Ron, and Hermione into the kitchen. They could hear Vernon grumbling in the other room, but Mad-Eye, ignoring the sounds, tugged the bin out from under the counter and started rummaging through it until he found a tin can, which he placed on the countertop. He drew his wand and muttered, " _Portus_."

The can glowed blue.

"Do you have authorization to do that?" Hermione asked curiously, as the glow dimmed.

"Wouldn't matter either way," Mad-Eye grunted. "Just ask Fred and George."

The interested look on Hermione's face told Harry that she intended to do just that. But before she or anyone could say anything further, Petunia unexpectedly appeared at the kitchen door. Spotting her first, Mad-Eye coolly asked, "Yes?"

She pursed her lips but said nothing.

"Get going," Mad-Eye ordered her. "And you can tell your great prune of a husband that if he doesn't get in his car in five seconds I will turn him into a real prune."

Petunia shook her head. "When will we be coming back?"

"This is a war," Mad-Eye reminded her. "There's no telling that."

Petunia's face pinched further for a moment, but finally she relaxed into an aura of resignation, and Harry knew she had finally accepted this, even if Vernon and Dudley had not yet. Looking at Harry, she asked, "You're off too, then?"

He nodded.

"This Voldemort…" Petunia said slowly, "the one who killed my sister… he wants you dead too?"

"He's made that fairly clear," Harry sardonically remarked, wondering where this was going.

"And you're going to do something about it?" she asked.

But at this, Harry was silent. Petunia inhaled deeply, and to his surprise, he could see the smallest trace of sadness in her demeanor. But before anyone could say anything further, Tonks looked in.

"Mrs. Dursley, are you coming or not?" she asked impatiently.

Petunia nodded jerkily, and turned to follow Tonks outside. But as she stepped through the kitchen door, she paused and looked back at Harry, and offered him a quiet, "Good luck."

Harry started, but Petunia left the kitchen before he could muster a response, leaving a tentative silence in her wake. Seconds later, they heard the front door close and lock, and a minute later, car doors slamming. Harry stepped next to Moody, Ron, and Hermione as they heard the car's engines roar into life, and then heard the Dursleys pull out of their driveway, possibly for the last time. Moody flicked his wand at the ceiling, and the lights turned off.

"Quickly," he hissed, tapping the Portkey with his wand. "Five seconds."

He, Harry, Ron, and Hermione grasped the can, and seconds later vanished from the kitchen.

A small tremor rocked the house, causing the abandoned kitchenware to rattle, then all was silent. A minute, two minutes, three passed. Then slowly, very slowly, the handle of the front door turned. The door swung open, and two men in masks and black robes stepped into Number Four, Privet Drive, with lit wands.

But Voldemort's minions had arrived moments too late. Nobody by the name of Potter or Dursley dwelled within the house, nor would they step within that dwelling again. And the Death Eaters would shortly face their master's wrath for not responding to the crumbling of Lily Potter's final defenses more promptly.

They did not go unobserved. As the Death Eaters promptly tore the house apart in search of any indication of their enemy's whereabouts, a scarlet and gold bird, perched in the tree out back, trilled quietly with an air of triumph. Then, unseen by anyone, it raised its wings and vanished in a flash of fire that left the tree's branches unscorched.

* * *

Many miles away, in Sherwood Forest, lay the goblin village of Baarenbrach. Like all goblin settlements it was well hidden from Muggle eyes. Unlike Surrey, Nottinghamshire was not enduring a heavy downpour, but rather a soft mist filled the woods and further obscured the settlement from passersby.

In one of the settlement's small, brick cottages dwelled old Benedict Grobschmied, one of the Baarenbrach's most respected residents. Though his name indicated Koboldic heritage rather than Tylwthteg, the Grobschmieds had been established in Baarenbrach for many generations, now only loosely connected with the Germanic goblin nation Koboldrang.

On this particularly dismal afternoon, Grobschmied could be found in his sitting room, pouring himself some tea and settling in a worn armchair. His coffee table was covered with newspapers, written both in English and in the language of the Tylwthteg goblins, all featuring pictures of the Dark Mark, the Minister of Magic, Albus Dumbledore, and Harry Potter, all showing headlines documenting the ongoing crisis in the magical world. Grobschmied looked over these papers without comment, and then he placed his teacup on the end table beside an old photograph showing a youthful, smiling goblin. Grobschmied picked up the photograph and looked at it solemnly, before placing it next to the newspaper with a photograph of the Dark Mark. Looking between the two in sad resignation, Grobschmied leaned back in his chair, and reached for his tea.

Then his pointed ears twitched, and he froze, listening closely. The strange song became more and more audible, an unearthly yet almost sacred sound. Grobschmied got to his feet as the sound reached a loud crescendo, and then there was a burst of fire over the coffee table, causing him to cry out and fling his hands up, shielding his eyes. Then the song stopped, the light dimmed, and Grobschmied lowered his hands, and gawked in astonishment at the beautiful scarlet and gold phoenix that stood perched on the coffee table, its right foot next to the undamaged photograph.

Hesitantly Grobschmied reached out to touch the phoenix. When it accepted his touch, he slowly stroked its glossy feathers. "Good heavens," he whispered quietly. "What on earth would you want with a crotchety old sod like me?"

The phoenix trilled in response and raised its left foot, and Grobschmied noticed an envelope tied to its leg. With shaking fingers, the goblin untied the letter and turned it over, seeing his name written in a flowing hand. Then the phoenix trilled a second time, and vanished with an equally bright flash of flame, leaving no burn marks on the table. Grobschmied stared at the spot for a moment, and then hesitantly opened and read his letter. As he reached its close, his eyes widened, and he immediately stowed it in his pocket and dashed to his fireplace. He seized a handful of Floo Powder form a box on the mantelpiece, scattered it into his lit fire, and stepped into the green flames.

"Cerdik Gadlak's office, Gringotts!" he shouted in a clear voice.

And with that, Benedict Grobschmied vanished from his fireplace, leaving his cottage in silence. Above the fireplace hung a portrait of the same young goblin in the photograph, with a brass nameplate that read:

LAERTES GROBSCHMIED

1913-1945

He was determined to make it a certainty. One day, Lord Voldemort would pay.


	4. Know as the Dark

_A/N: Does anyone know how to get the site to bold things? I prefer to bold the chapter titles, and I used to have no trouble with this, but every time I publish a chapter, it reverts to normal script._

 **Chapter Three  
** **Know as the Dark**

.

" _It is hard to know as the dark; its movement is like pealing thunder."  
_ _-Sun Tzu,_ _The Art of War_

" _Hard to know as the dark means being unobtrusive and inscrutable."  
_ _-Mei Yaochen_

* * *

It was raining just as hard in Devon as it was in Surrey. The Portkey brought them to the backyard of the Burrow, and Harry, landing hard, stumbled into the mud as Hedwig batted her wings against the bars of her cage, hooting indignantly. Ron grunted and extracted his foot from a muddy gnome hole; two gnomes, who had been grubbing in the mud for worms, shook their tiny fists at him.

"Couldn't have landed us harder, could you?" Ron shot at Mad-Eye, who ignored him. Shivering, Harry raised his foot, allowing the rainfall to rinse away some of the mud.

"Oh, you're here!" someone cried from the house: Molly Weasley, waving them over to the back door. Eager to get out of the rain, the small party quickly splashed their way through mud and wet grass to the door.

"Morning, Molly," Mad-Eye said, cleaning mud from his boot and peg leg with a wave of his wand.

Molly pulled Ron into a hug. "I'm so relieved you got here safely." She released Ron, but before pulling Harry and Hermione into similar embraces, she called over her shoulder, "Scourgify your shoes before going in!"

Once she released Harry and Hermione as well, she said quickly, "Come on in before you all catch cold."

Harry quickly pulled his muddy shoes off and left them on the porch before going inside. A clap of thunder rattled the windows, but Harry breathed a sigh of relief as the warmth of the Burrow swept over him. As Ron and Harry peeled off their wet jackets, Molly quickly ushered the four of them into the kitchen, where, they found, she had hot chocolate waiting for them.

"Cheers, Mum," Ron said as Molly served him. He then looked at the window as another clap of thunder echoed outside. "It's _June_ ," he complained. "Why is it so cold?"

"It's raining," Molly said bracingly.

"But it's been cold all week," Ron pointed out.

"Both the _Prophet_ and the Muggle papers are only saying that there's a strange cold front all over the British Isles," Hermione said. But she grimaced as she spoke.

"Dementors?" Harry asked, worried.

"No." Mad-Eye gulped down some hot chocolate. "The Dementors _are_ multiplying, but not enough for it to be this cold. We're not sure what it is."

"Look," Molly said, speaking somewhat forcefully, "sometimes the weather has odd changes. It happens."

Harry looked at her but made no reply. She clearly wasn't very happy with the direction of the conversation, and he spotted her eyeing the family clock, where all of the hands remained pointing at "Mortal Peril." Hermione noticed this too, and looking to change the subject, asked Mad-Eye, "So where exactly are Harry's relatives going? I heard Kingsley say something about Canada."

"Mr. Dursley is about to sell his firm and then become CEO to a new drill firm in a nice, quiet corner of Saskatchewan," Mad-Eye grunted, but he was smirking. "Moose Jaw, to be precise."

"And _that's_ why Uncle Vernon flipped," Harry said gleefully. "He's always hated the idea of going anywhere abroad. How'd you arrange this?"

"Some well-placed memory charms and good contacts in the North American Magical Confederation." Mad-Eye looked at his pocket watch, gulped down the rest of his hot chocolate, and stood. "I ought to get back to headquarters. I'll see you tomorrow, Molly."

Molly nodded, and Mad-Eye limped over to the back door and left the house. Harry watched at the window as he limped his way down a brick walkway to the gate at the edge of the property, which Harry assumed to be the anti-Apparation border, if what Ginny had told him was accurate.

"So what's happening tomorrow?" asked Ron.

"They're putting up a new Fidelius Charm at Grimmauld Place," Molly told them.

Harry carefully avoided looking at Ron or Hermione, knowing that this likely meant his own impending removal to the Order's headquarters. But before Molly said anything further, if she intended to, there was a loud tap at the window, and the four of them saw an owl there, rapping its beak on the glass frantically. Molly quickly let in the owl, which dropped a letter onto the table and fluttered to a shelf near the cooker, fluffing up its feathers to get warm. Molly picked up the letter and cast a drying spell on it, followed by a second spell clearing up the smudged ink.

Just then Ginny suddenly appeared at the kitchen door. Harry swallowed. Their eyes instantly met, but before either of them could say or do anything, Molly also caught sight of her.

"There you are." She held up the letter. "This is for you. I expect it's your O.W.L. results."

Ginny took the envelope and sat down between Harry and Hermione. "Hi, Harry," she said cheerfully.

"Erm, hi," he replied feebly.

She didn't look remotely bothered by his hesitant greeting, instead looking between him and Ron and Hermione. "Glad to see you all got here in one piece. No trouble from the Muggles, I take it?"

As he listened to her chat with Ron and Hermione, Harry was impressed at Ginny's ability to pretend that nothing had happened between them before or after Dumbledore's funeral. At least she'd renew normal friendship with them, though the thought was wrenching to him.

"So what are your exam results?" asked Molly.

Ginny opened the letter and glanced over them without the smallest look of concern. "An 'O' in Defense and Charms. 'Es' in Transfiguration, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies, and 'As' in Astronomy and History of Magic."

"So, that's… eight O.W.L.s," Ron quickly counted, looking impressed. "Better than Harry and I did."

Thrilled, Molly cried, "Eight! That's amazing, Ginny! Most students don't get that many. Your professors should be proud of you. You'll do brilliantly on the N.E.W.T.s, I know it! But I do hope they don't work you _too_ hard this year."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other as they listened to Molly enthuse about the exam results, obviously putting up a false front. Harry looked at Ginny questioningly, but she gave him a warning look and grinned at her mother, pretending to be pleased. Harry looked between mother and daughter, observing the deception between both.

When Molly finally left the room, determining to inform Arthur of the wonderful news, she left an awkward silence as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all looked at each other in varying degrees of bewilderment and frustration.

"I take it we're not supposed to know about Hogwarts closing yet?" Harry asked Ginny, who shook her head.

"I found out eavesdropping on Mum and Kingsley," she admitted.

"Then why is she all _excited_ about your O.W.L.s?" asked Hermione. "They'll be meaningless for most well-paying positions until Hogwarts reopens or until you can get your N.E.W.T.s."

"She's probably trying to keep life as normal as possible," Ron said, frowning after his mother. "Probably for her own feelings more than for ours."

"Like much of the Order's actions these days," Ginny muttered. Only Harry heard her, and he looked at her questioningly, but they could hear Molly's footsteps approaching, and Ginny shook her head. But Harry was sure she intended to discuss it later.

* * *

"Dumbledore's phoenix delivered it?" Cerdik Gadlak asked incredulously, staring at the opened letter.

"Yes," replied Benedict Grobschmied. "So we can be sure it was from him. It makes it clear that he already knew."

Scanning through the letter a second time, Gadlak noted, "And it's dated to the day before his death." He looked back up at Grobschmied. "We all knew that Dumbledore was Voldemort's greatest enemy, but if he found out about this too, then he must have had his own history with Riddle, beyond merely opposing him."

"That does appear to be the case."

Gadlak leaned back in his chair, staring at Grobschmied with mild amazement. "How did you get in contact with him?"

Grobschmied smiled sheepishly. "I slipped a note into his pocket during his last visit."

"When was this?" asked Gadlak with a raised eyebrow.

"About a week before he penned this reply." Grobschmied took back the letter, looked it over quickly, then lay it on Gadlak's desk. "But the way he wrote it… it's almost as though he knew he was going to die."

He gave the other a significant look, but Gadlak simply shrugged. "He was quite old, even by wizard standards," he reminded him. "Perhaps he was dying already."

"Exactly." Grobschmied leaned forward so that his hands were resting on the desk. "I can't imagine Voldemort's most formidable enemy allowing the secret to die with him."

"So he says." Gadlak picked the letter back up and looked it over a third time. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Rok Grimrook knows," Grobschmied told him.

"Your nephew?"

"And he wants in."

Gadlak slowly nodded. "Yes. I imagine he feels he's got as much incentive as you do." He thought carefully for a moment. "Why don't you bring him up here? If he already knows, he ought to take part in this discussion."

* * *

The gnome squealed as it flew over the hedge and landed in the muddy puddles on the other side with a splatter. Harry paused for a moment to catch his breath, as another gnome, thrown by Ginny, flew over his head and landed a few feet further from his. Once the rain let up, Mrs. Weasley had looked out the kitchen window and observed "dozens of gnomes" grubbing through muddy puddles in search of snails and other such foods, and chased Harry, Ron, and Ginny outside to clear them out. It was freezing in the garden, even after the rain had let up, but the effort of chasing down gnomes, spinning them, and throwing them over the hedge as hard as they could, had helped counter the icy humidity.

He looked down for another, and seeing none in reach (Ron grabbed two), he looked back up and spotted Hestia Jones in the distance, slowly moving around the perimeter of the Burrow with her wand out. He then looked over at Ginny, who had chased down another gnome. Like Harry, she was covered with mud, her hands in particular, and her cheeks were a little pink, either from cold or from exertion.

"Just how strong are these wards they're putting up?' he asked Ginny.

She waited to answer until she had thrown the gnome out of the garden, and, once she heard the satisfying squelch of the gnome landing in a particularly muddy patch, she wiped her hands on her jeans and looked at Harry.

"I'm not sure, really," she said. "I think that they're trying to make the Burrow as secure as Grimmauld Place. The only difference is that they can't put up a Fidelius Charm here."

"Why not?" asked Harry.

"It would make it extremely difficult for Dad's colleagues at the Ministry to get in touch with him," Ginny answered. "And I imagine that it might make some of Scrimgeour's lot suspicious."

Looking back at Hestia, who was now at the gate, peering outwards, Harry surmised, "So until they move me to Grimmauld Place, our security completely depends on the skill of the Order members."

Ginny didn't respond immediately, but that may have been because she was scanning the ground for more gnomes. Seeing none, she said, "Bill says the new wards are very strong. But the fact that we can't put up a Fidelius Charm is making Mum really nervous. Fair warning, since Dumbledore died she's been unwilling to let any of us out of her sight." She then looked at Ron. "That's why she put up such a fuss when you went off to stay with Harry at the Dursleys'. Now that you're back, you can bet that she'll be watching you like a hawk."

Ron scowled. "She can't keep trying to shield us like this. We're not children anymore!"

"I wish it were as simple as that," Ginny continued quietly. "But… I don't know. I think it's also the Order. They've been really paranoid lately."

She sounded uneasy. Harry and Ron looked at her, expecting more, but Ginny was silent for a few minutes, seemingly trying to decide how to put what she wanted to say. "They haven't taken Dumbledore's death or Snape's betrayal well at all. They try to hide it, but it's plain to anyone who watches them. They don't know what to do." Looking at Harry pointedly, she added, "I think they're putting so much effort into hiding you because it makes them feel like they're doing something useful. Like they're in control of the situation. And they really need to feel like that right now."

She fell silent, but she looked worried. This left Harry to wonder, as he was sure she wondered, just how much the Order _wasn't_ telling them. If the danger was far greater than they were permitted to know at present. It certainly would explain the Order's paranoia, but, Harry reflected, the loss of Dumbledore might also explain that. Still, everything in the past few days from the strange summer cold to the odd _lack_ of overt Death Eater activity left Harry uneasy. He couldn't explain it, but something simply didn't feel right.

After a moment's silence, in which Ron spotted another gnome and stooped down to seize it, Ginny asked Harry in an undertone, "When are you going?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked at the house nervously. He quickly spun the gnome in circles over his head, then flung it over the hedge, and then drew his wand and pointed it at the Burrow, mumbling, "Muffliato!"

Harry glanced in that direction too, before he turned back to Ginny, speaking in a low voice even with the privacy the spell afforded.

"I can't tell you what we're doing, Ginny," he reminded her. "I promised Dumbledore."

"I never asked what you're doing," she replied evenly. "I know there are things you can't tell me. But if you're going to disappear in the middle of the night in a few weeks, I'd like to be forewarned."

Harry thought about it for a minute, and relented. "As soon as I have my Apparation license."

Ginny nodded. "I thought as much. But have you thought about how you'd leave once the Order's hides you in Grimmauld Place?" She glanced back at the house nervously as she spoke.

Harry, not exactly having a positive answer to give her, grimaced. "We're working on it."

"Maybe once we're there, Hermione can find a way around it, now that she can actually look at these new protections," Ron offered.

Ginny sighed. "Well, just be surreptitious about it. If Mum gets the slightest idea of what you're planning, she'll have your wands sealed in her Gringotts vault in two seconds flat."

Harry growled in frustration. Another heavy silence fell. He looked at Ginny quietly, and she returned that look. Ron looked between them, and then looked over the ground and said awkwardly, "I think we got them all. I'll go see if Hermione's finished unpacking yet."

As he hurried away, Harry pulled his wand out and pointed it downward. " _Aguamenti_."

A stream of water poured from his wand. He used this to rinse the mud from his left hand, then his right, before then running some over the handle of his wand, cleaning the dirt from it.

Watching him, Ginny said casually, "You're still underage, you know."

"It won't matter," Harry said. "We're in a wizarding household. They won't realize it was me."

Ginny laughed. "Caught onto that, did you?"

She then leaned down and reached her muddy hands forward. As Harry cleaned her hands off too, she asked, "So, you got my letter?"

Harry nodded.

She exhaled. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I think the Death Eaters are getting more influence in the Ministry than the Order wants you to know at present."

"How do you know that?" asked Harry, mildly surprised.

"Fred and George and their Extendable Ears."

Harry smirked. "At least I know I can count on _you_ to keep me informed."

Ginny returned the grin before becoming more serious. "From what I heard, Death Eater sympathizers haven't reached any of the really important positions yet. But if confidence in Scrimgeour weakens too much, you can bet the Death Eaters will take advantage of it. It doesn't help that Scrimgeour seems to be getting desperate. I heard Dad say that he's been nagging him for a meeting with you."

"Again?" groaned Harry. He put away his wand, feeling a headache coming on. Looking at Ginny, he said wearily, "I don't want part in any of it. Even if I didn't have things to do, I'd be tempted to bolt just to get away from it all."

Ginny reached forward and rubbed his arm comfortingly. "I know," she said in a soothing voice. She was trying to keep her expression more neutral, but Harry could see the sadness and insecurity in her eyes, the same fears he himself felt every minute of every day.

"Harry"—

"Ginny, I"—

They both stopped, waiting for the other to finish. Harry felt a sudden wave of longing as he realized this was the first time they had been alone together since the funeral, and he missed those happy hours he'd spent with her at Hogwarts only a few weeks earlier. He nodded to her nervously, allowing her to speak first.

"I just want you to know," she said quietly, her eyes fixed on his, "that even if we don't see each other again for months or years after this, you'll always have my support. If you ever need me at your side, I'll be there."

Harry nodded, and smiled. "I know. You've made that pretty clear. I know I can count on you."

Ginny exhaled, and took his hand and held it tightly, as though afraid he'd pull away. But Harry, in spite of the fact that they split up, felt no inclination to do so, preferring to take this small offering of comfort. They both had tears in their eyes.

"Ginny!" Molly called out from some distance.

Ginny looked away for a moment, and let go of Harry's hand. But then she stepped forward, kissed his cheek, and gave him a final, stoic look before she returned to the house.

* * *

"You understand the need for absolute secrecy?" Gadlak asked in a stern, commanding voice he generally reserved for faculty meetings.

Rok Grimrook, a much younger goblin, looking completely unfazed by his employer's tone, simply replied with equal firmness, "Yes."

"Good," Gadlak said, "because at the present time, I can't have anyone at the High Council getting wind of what we're up to. Or any more of our employees."

"Or Lord Voldemort?" asked Grimrook coolly. "Does anyone else know?"

"I've told my son," Gadlak informed him. "He understands your history and wants to help. But no one else."

Grimrook nodded, unconcerned.

"So, has your uncle shown you his letter?" Gadlak asked, pointing at Grobschmied, who stood nearby in silence.

"Yes." Grimrook glanced at the letter in Gadlak's hand. "It puts a whole new light on the situation, doesn't it?" He paused in some contemplation, before he asked Gadlak, "What are your thoughts about this protégé he mentioned?"

Gadlak said nothing, but he looked at Grobschmied for his opinion.

"I have a few ideas," the older goblin said, "ranging from his brother to Minerva McGonagall, who he seemed close to."

Grimrook scratched his head, but he was frowning. This was not lost on Gadlak or Grobschmied, the former of whom asked, "Why? Do you have any ideas?""

Grimrook looked at him speculatively. "Were you aware of the sealed box Dumbledore left in Gringotts' custodianship?"

"I know that there was one," Gadlak answered.

"Did they tell you its intended recipient?" asked Grimrook.

Looking cautious, Gadlak slowly conceded, "It is curious, yes."

"If I were to guess…" Grimrook said carefully, "I'd say _he's_ the one we're looking for."

"He's just a teenager," Gadlak said dismissively.

"Yes," Grobschmied said quietly. The same thoughtful expression appeared on his face. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't have the information we need."

"And for a teenager he is strangely… _involved_ … in this war," Grimrook pointed out. "You know his history."

Gadlak looked between uncle and nephew with a raised eyebrow, but only said, "I see."

Nobody spoke. Grimrook and Grobschmied were looking at Gadlak expectantly, hoping that he would respond first. Gadlak's mouth pressed into a very thin line as he thought over Grimrook's theory. Then he finally said in a very serious tone, "You will have to proceed carefully. Discretion will be essential."

"I have tracked people for years without detection," Grobschmied reminded him. "I can manage contact with one teenager without anyone knowing it."

"Maybe, but a teenager the entire Order of the Phoenix likely is working night and day to protect?" Gadlak shot back.

Grobschmied was silent.

"If we are to discuss this matter with Harry Potter, it must be without the Order or the Ministry knowing," Gadlak said in a tone that brooked absolutely no argument. "If we are to work with him on this, we must do so beyond the Ministry's influence or reach, or the Order's, and certainly without the Council finding out."

"You mean we'd have to remove him from his current sphere of protection," Grobschmied said coolly.

Gadlak nodded grimly, and Grimrook looked between them in surprise. "But why separate him from the Order?"

"The same reason we haven't tried to contact them," Grobschmied said. "They are too exposed. Even if they weren't, we want as few people in on this as possible."

Grimrook looked at Gadlak with raised eyebrows. "Just how many potential traitors do you think are around you, or Potter?"

"It only takes one!" Gadlak exclaimed.

Grobschmied shook his head. "It's the safest course of action, Rok. Both for us and for Mr. Potter."

"I see." Grimrook paused, thinking this over. "Well, in that case, I have an idea."

* * *

The death of Albus Dumbledore had put enormous strain on the Order of the Phoenix, but the betrayal of Severus Snape was just as serious a blow to them. Where Albus Dumbledore's Order had been wary but trusting of their leader, the Order as run by Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt had become as alert and almost as paranoid as the former was. His motto, constant vigilance, suddenly became the Order's governing philosophy. They were determined to prevent such treachery from their membership from ever happening again, and became more alert to the possible of both external and internal attack than ever before.

Renewing the Fidelius Charm in Grimmauld Place was part of this campaign. Until then, security would be tighter both there and at the Burrow than at a Muggle airport during a bomb threat. Trusted Order members checked anyone coming in or out for any traces of Polyjuice Potion or other forms of magical concealment, and only a few in the Order or the Ministry of Magic were permitted within the boundaries either of Grimmauld Place or of the Burrow. As he wasn't the old Secret Keeper, Severus Snape couldn't bring other Death Eaters into headquarters, nor could he tell them its rough location. Mad-Eye Moody had no reason to fear that; but the old Fidelius Charm would not prevent Snape from entering Grimmauld Place himself.

Harry was told all this at the breakfast table the morning after his arrival at the Burrow, but as Ginny had already told him that the Order intended to renew the Fidelius Charm and subsequently remove him to Grimmauld Place on a more permanent basis, the details of the Fidelius Charm were the only new information he got. Unsurprisingly, Arthur Weasley was either forbidden to tell him the name of the new Secret Keeper, or he didn't know himself. Yet in this flow of non-news, Harry did receive a surprise.

"Mad-Eye wants _me_ there?" he repeated.

Arthur shrugged. "It is legally _your_ house. The Order technically is there with _your_ permission. You have every right to be there for this."

A sudden thought struck Harry, and alarmed, he asked, "They don't want _me_ to be Secret Keeper, do they?" Though he had no intention of betraying the Order to anyone, he could hardly function as a Secret Keeper if he was out hunting Horcruxes.

"Of course not," Arthur reassured him, looking amused. "The new Secret Keeper will be a member of the Order, which you are not. You're just going to act as a witness. It's a part of the process."

"Witness?"

"Witnesses seal the bond between the Secret Keeper and the secret," Arthur explained, "and also prevent any confusion about the identity of the Secret Keeper."

Harry scowled. "A lot of good that did my parents," he said bitterly. He wondered who had been witness to that Fidelius Charm; his parents and Sirius, probably; but all were dead and since nobody else knew about the second charm… Harry closed his eyes, quelling his anger at the mistake that led to his parents' deaths and Sirius's unjust imprisonment, and trying to put aside his misgivings this time. It would be different, he assured himself.

"What's the process?" asked Hermione, breaking the awkward silence that had filled the kitchen. "I understand that it's a complicated spell."

"You heard right." Arthur sounded relieved at the shift in topic. "But I'm afraid I don't know exactly how it goes, except that there are three different incantations. But you'll see it for yourself today. Alastor invited you, Ron, and Ginny to witness the spell as well."

"What?" Molly shrieked.

Harry looked at her in some surprise, which Ron, Hermione, and Ginny shared, but their shock was tempered with their pleasure at being included.

Arthur pretended there had been no interruption. "And speaking of which," he said to them, "we ought to leave in about half an hour."

With that, he stood and exited the kitchen. Molly forcefully jabbed her wand in the direction of the frying pan from which she had just served eggs, and hissed, "Scourgify!" before following her husband out the kitchen door, looking furious.

"What's with her?" asked Ron, surprised. "It's not like Death Eaters are gonna crash this party."

They could hear Molly and Arthur arguing outside, but their words were unintelligible. Ginny sighed. "Mum doesn't just want us constantly in her sight," she explained. "She's also been fighting tooth and nail to keep us as much out of the Order's business as possible."

"That's stupid," Ron said irritably. "Hermione and I are old enough to join the Order, and Harry almost is."

"It's a good thing they want us there, all things considered," said Hermione. "Involving us gives us automatic knowledge of the location whether the Secret Keeper tells us or not."

Arthur came back in as she spoke, and Molly did not follow, but they could hear her ranting angrily in another room.

"You lot had better get ready," he told them wearily. Harry looked at Ron in worry, but Ron merely shook his head.

Looking back at Arthur, Harry asked, "Are you moving me to Grimmauld Place today, now that the new Fidelius is going up?"

Arthur looked shocked. "How did you… no, not today." He shook his head. "Mad-Eye wants to test the wards around Grimmauld Place for a couple of days to make sure everything's secure, and as I understand it, Andromeda Tonks has taken it upon herself to redo the entire house. Until all that's taken care of, you'll stay here."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. While he understood Grimmauld Place to be more secure, he did not want to leave the Burrow so soon.

"Redo the house?" asked Hermione curiously. "In what way?"

* * *

"Whoa!" Ron exclaimed, seeing the sitting room.

Harry's jaw too had dropped when he stepped out of the fireplace and saw the significant change to the décor of 12 Grimmauld Place. Where previously the room had been decorated with drab, dark colors, unpleasant portraits, and an assortment of hideous-looking instruments in the china cabinet, the newly redecorated room was now a deep vermilion color, and the furniture had been replaced with soft armchairs and settees in warm, earthy colors of greens and yellows. Most of the smaller decorations had been removed, though not replaced with a more cheerful variety as yet; the room was now brightly lit where it had been dimmer before. The only thing that remained from Walburga Black's Grimmauld Place was the Black family tapestry, which stood in some contrast with the rest of the room.

Harry hadn't had much time to admire the house further, however, before Kingsley and Hestia Jones descended upon them, their wands out in a flash, and Hestia's pointed between his eyes.

"Name, wand properties, and the name of your uncle's new company?" Hestia demanded of Harry.

Startled, Harry could only respond, "Hestia, you know who I am."

"Answer the questions," she snapped.

As Kingsley similarly (though in a calmer tone of voice) questioned Ron and the others, Harry wracked his brain, trying to remember the name of the new drilling firm the Order had transferred Uncle Vernon to, but to his immense relief, at that moment Tonks stepped into the room and said, "Cast your Patronus, Harry. The Ministry won't detect it here."

Relieved, Harry drew his wand, looked at Ginny, and cried, "Expecto Patronum!"

The silvery stag burst from his wand, cantered its way around the room, and dissipated, but it was enough.

"Definitely him, Hestia," Tonks affirmed, before steering Harry around Hestia and into the room. "Well, make yourself at home."

The tension eased at this point. Kingsley finished questioning the others shortly afterwards, allowing them to continue looking about the room in admiration.

"This looks amazing," Hermione told Tonks. "Red with wood trim is a definite improvement."

"Brilliant, isn't it?" grinned Tonks. "You'd be surprised what Mum can do when she puts her mind to it. Dobby has been of help too. They even managed to get rid of Sirius's mum."

"Seriously?" asked a delighted Ron.

"Elf magic," Tonks explained. "That's about all I know, though."

"And they're going to do the whole house like this?" asked Harry.

"It'll take a few more days, but yeah."

At this moment, Ginny sniggered loudly, and the others looked at her. Pointing at the tapestry, she said, "Apparently Fred and George did their bit too."

The others moved closer to see what she was talking about. At first Harry couldn't see anything different about the tapestry. Then he noticed that the heading was different.

 _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Inbreeding:_

 _Toujours fou_

Harry grinned, and Ron asked, "What's 'toujours fou'?"

"'Always bonkers,'" Hermione replied, prompting another laugh from the others.

"Sirius would have loved this," Harry said wistfully.

Tonks nodded in complete agreement, then gestured for them to seat themselves. Harry, Ron, and Ginny each took seats on the settee, while Hermione, still looking around the room in admiration, remained standing. Tonks took an armchair near Harry's end of the settee.

"Did the Dursleys get to Canada all right?" Harry asked.

Tonks nodded, grimacing. "They weren't as bad as they could have been. They seemed to have taken Mad-Eye at his word when he threatened to turn them into cow pies. I'd intended to drop a hint about Remus being a werewolf to _really_ scare them, but after Mad-Eye's threat they were already completely quiet the entire way there. Kind of took the fun out of it."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry you had to deal with them."

Tonks waved this aside. "Never mind. They're on a flight to Canada, probably already there, and good riddance."

Changing the subject, Harry asked, "So what else have you been up to? Apart from putting up additional security measures?"

"This and that. I'm on near-constant call at the Auror office these days," Tonks told him, "and Remus is still trying to obtain information from the other werewolves, but without much luck. It doesn't look like the Death Eaters share much with the werewolves."

Hearing this, Ginny put in, "I don't imagine the Death Eaters treat werewolves much better than they do Muggle-borns or house-elves."

Tonks nodded. "Bit of a wakeup call for them, I imagine. But it's a bit hard for them to back out once they're in. Voldemort will kill defectors if Greyback doesn't get to them first. Werewolves, however, are the least of our concerns right now."

"Really? Why?" asked Harry.

Tonks looked momentarily alarmed, and Harry realized that she'd said more than she intended to. But before he could question her further, there was a flash of green flame in the fireplace, and Molly walked in. Tonks looked relieved at her appearance.

"Never mind," she said. "It's not something you need to be concerned with."

Harry stared at her intently, but Tonks relaxed, knowing full well that he would not grill her for details with Molly Weasley in hearing range. Ginny too recognized that they'd get nothing more from her, and changed the subject. "So who's the new Secret Keeper?"

"Aberforth Dumbledore."

"Professor Dumbledore's brother?" asked Hermione in surprise.

"Yep," Tonks said. "You've met him, I think…" She then faltered, and amended, "I don't know, have you?"

"I have," Ginny said, causing Harry, Ron, and Hermione to look at him in surprise. Looking at them, she clarified, "Recently, while you were at Privet Drive. He's an odd bloke. Had a lot to say about the way secret organizations like the Order have to work to stay secret."

Tonks raised her eyebrows. "He did? When was this?"

"The day I got back from Hogwarts," Ginny answered, and this caused Harry to look at her with some curiosity.

Tonks nodded, though she was frowning a little. As more Order members shuffled into the room, she looked back at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "But then again, I suppose you'll have met him too, at the Hog's Head." When they looked at her in confusion, she added, "He's the bartender."

She grinned at their surprise. Harry recovered first. "Explains why Dumbledore always seemed to know what was going on at the Hogs' Head."

Tonks nodded. "Sometimes Aberforth gives us useful hearsay he picks up there. But more than that, he's experienced. He's been in the Order longer than anyone, except probably Elphias Doge."

At that moment, Mad-Eye entered the room with the man himself close behind. Harry watched Aberforth curiously, reflecting that the family resemblance wasn't obvious, except perhaps his eyes. Aberforth was a rougher appearance than his brother; though his hair and beard weren't as long, they weren't as well kempt, and his robes were patchy, dirtier, and drabber than Professor Dumbledore's generally had been. He wasn't much to look at first glance, but as Harry observed him talking to Mad-Eye, he realized that Aberforth carried himself in the same way his brother had, with an aura of experience that the others could only respect and defer to.

The last of the Order to arrive were Remus, Fred, and George (who gave Harry mock military salutes). Once Remus shut the door behind them, Mad-Eye looked around at the others closely, and then cleared his throat loudly, getting the room's attention.

"I think that's everyone," he announced. "Let's get started. Everyone stand up and get in a circle, around me and Aberforth." When all the room's occupants did as requested, he added, "All you have to do is watch. Witnessing this will cement the magical bind as I cast it. The more witnesses, the better. That's the first step."

He drew his wand and pointed it up in the air, moving it slowly in a circular motion. "Convenemus," he uttered.

A beam of silvery light burst from Mad-Eye's wand and struck the ceiling, from which it splintered, and encircled the entire group in a cage of light. Harry shivered a little as he felt the pulse of magical energy moving through the cage. The light was only visible for a second before it suddenly vanished, but Harry could still feel the energy emanating around him.

Mad-Eye then pointed his wand at Aberforth, and slowly chanted, "Tibi mandamus Arcanum nostrum. Aberforth Dumbledore, es custodem arcani."

He repeated this incantation three times. The energy seemed to strengthen each time he spoke the words, and after Mad-Eye completed the third recitation, he said loudly and clearly, "I place the secret in your custodianship, Aberforth Dumbledore: The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix will be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, in Islington, London, property of Harry James Potter." He then pointed his wand upward again, and called out, loudly and clearly, " _Fidelius_."

The cage of light immediately reappeared, flashing a fiery red, and then, just as suddenly, it dissipated. Mad-Eye lowered his wand. Kingsley, Tonks, and Remus Lupin stepped out of the circle, and Harry realized they must have finished.

"That was quicker than I expected," he said to Remus ten minutes later. Some of the Order had already left Grimmauld Place, particularly Ministry employees or Aurors (though Tonks remained), but those who weren't required at work at that moment lingered afterwards, Weasleys and Harry included. Andromeda Tonks, who, it transpired, loved playing hostess, quickly set herself and Dobby to the task of serving tea and biscuits to the remainders.

"Difficult to cast, though," Remus remarked as he joined Harry at the pier table with the refilling teapot.

He filled two cups and offered one to Harry, who accepted it. "Thank you." He looked around the room. "So, I'm to be moved here when Tonks's Mum says so?"

Remus nodded. "Assuming we can persuade Mad-Eye that we've put up as much security as needed. And maybe a bit more. I've never seen him happier."

Harry grinned in amusement. Remus then caught sight of something over Harry's shoulder, and nudged him. "We've got company."

It was Fred and George. The former twin clapped Harry's shoulder hard enough for Harry, caught off guard, to stumble and almost spill his tea. "Harry, my man!" Fred exclaimed happily. "Glad to see you're here."

"Hello," Harry said, though with a hint of mistrust at the twins' overly cheerful manner. "What's up?"

"You look suspicious," Fred remarked. "Are we suspicious? George, I'm offended! Some friend!"

"Shut it. I haven't forgotten you turning Neville into a canary." Harry grinned. "How's the shop?"

"It's going swimmingly," George answered. "Actually, that's what we wanted to talk to you about."

Harry looked at them questioningly. Fred swelled proudly. "Don't know if you heard, but apparently humor is just what the Healer ordered. We now run the most prosperous business in Diagon Alley."

"Congratulations," Remus said, looking pleased for them.

"And we owe it all to this bespectacled git here," George told Remus. Looking back at Harry, he held up a piece of paper. "And we want to give a bit back."

He handed the paper, what looked like a form, to Harry. Frowning, Harry began to read through it. As he did, he barely registered a high-pitched voice say, "Would Masters Wheezy and Harry Potter like some biscuits?"

"Cheers, Dobby," George answered.

When the elf nudged Harry's knee, he glanced down and accepted a biscuit with a distracted, "Thanks, Dobby," before returning to the form. Then he looked back at the twins. "No."

"Thirty percent," Fred argued. "Come on, it's a decent income."

" _No_ ," Harry said firmly. "It's your shop."

Fred was not going to back down so easily, however. "You mentioned Canary Creams just now?" he said in a threatening voice. "Sign it, or you'll never have a safe meal again."

Harry swallowed nervously, having no doubt that the twins would make good on their threat.

"Fine," he relented, "but not thirty. Fifteen."

"Twenty-five," George countered.

"Twenty," Harry insisted. "No more than that."

Fred shrugged. "Never thought I'd be haggling with someone insisting for _smaller_ dividends than _larger_. You're an odd one."

But Harry knew he'd won. Fred pointed his wand at the form, and the "30%" on the form turned to "20%". He then handed Harry a quill, and Harry put the form on the pier table and signed it.

Fred quickly snatched the form and the quill back before Harry could change his mind. "I'll drop this off at Gringotts tomorrow," he said happily.

"Thanks," Harry said. "No Canary Creams, then?"

George shot him an evil grin. "Your meals are safe. For now. After all, you dated our little sister. We can't leave you with complete immunity."

And with that, he and Fred moved away. Remus looked back at Harry. "You invested in their shop?"

"Ages ago," Harry answered. "I gave them my Triwizard winnings. I didn't think of it as an investment, I just didn't want the gold."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "That _is_ generous. But then again, I suppose you already had more than enough money to go 'round. You won't find it much of a loss."

Harry frowned at this remark. He had a small fortune in Gringotts, but a great deal of it had been spent on Hogwarts; but something about Remus's remark made it sound like Harry was rolling in gold. Before he could ask anything further, however, a loud crash made everyone jump. Mad-Eye jumped and whirled around, brandishing his wand. But it quickly became clear that Tonks had knocked over a small end table with a vase of daisies. Quickly Remus dashed over to help her right the table, and he cleared up the flowers and vase with a wave of his wand. As Harry watched, Tonks playfully gave Remus a small shove, but the look she gave him was a glowing one. Remus returned her smile, and returned to Harry.

"How's it going with Tonks?" Harry asked. "I heard you're together now."

"I owe Molly for knocking sense into me," Remus said happily. "There was that, and the fact that if I kept up my misguided nobility streak, she and Tonks probably would have hexed me into next Christmas."

At this, Harry shifted uncomfortably, which Remus noticed. He gave Harry a sidelong glance, and remarked, "I understand _you_ had your own fair share of romance recently."

Harry looked away, and awkwardly mumbled, "Ginny and I aren't going out anymore."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "Not unlike myself last year, though I think your reasoning is slightly better than mine." He looked over at Ginny, who was on the other end of the room, talking to Hermione and Tonks. "But Harry," he said in a serious voice, "Don't distance yourself from her, even if you don't feel you can date her at present. At some point, you may need her."

Harry stared at him, but Remus merely smiled enigmatically and moved across the room to join Tonks's conversation. Harry watched them for some time, torn between wistfully thinking of all that had occurred between him and Ginny, and making sense of Remus's words. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he started when a gnarly hand rested on his shoulder.

"Potter," Aberforth Dumbledore greeted quietly. "I believe we've met in Hogsmeade, but I've never introduced myself to you."

Harry shook Aberforth's offered hand. "Pleased to properly meet you."

"I'm glad you're here," Aberforth told him quietly. "You probably would have been anyway, but Alastor invited you and your friends here specifically at _my_ request."

Harry frowned. "I get that they need me here, since it's my house, but why the others? We're not in the Order."

Aberforth seemed pleased with Harry's question. He glanced around the room, and then leaned closer and said in an undertone, "I knew my brother better than anyone, Potter. Whatever he's got you doing, Potter, do it quickly."

At first, Harry was dumbstruck, half-stunned at Aberforth's directness, half-confused at how much he actually knew. But finding his tongue, he stammered "Did he tell you"—

"As I told your girlfriend recently," Aberforth interrupted, "Albus did not just operate within the Order. They may not understand it, but I know how he worked. He played his cards close, and kept the most dangerous secrets from reaching anyone's ears, except when it was vital that they know." He then quieted his voice even further, so that Harry had to strain his ears to hear: "I don't know what you're up to, Potter, but I strongly suggest you do the same."

Harry opened his mouth, but unable to think of anything to say, simply nodded. Aberforth returned the nod and then promptly quitted the room, but Harry watched him go, wondering what Albus must have told Aberforth, and what role the brother would play in the absence of the leader.

* * *

" _No! No, please!"_

" _Begging for mercy? You shall have none. You do not deserve to live."_

 _The scene changed. A girl with red hair stood in a corridor, following the boy with mousy hair. A strange, almost serpentine utterance escaped her lips, and the boy turned around. He was carrying a camera and a bunch of grapes._

" _Ginny?" he asked uncertainly, staring at the girl's pale face and steely eyes. She made no response, except for one last hissing utterance, and something huge and reptilian stirred from the shadows, just as the boy raised his camera. There was a brief flash of yellow, and the boy fell, his face frozen in shock, stiff as a board. Tom laughed mercilessly._

" _I trusted you!" Ginny cried._

" _Then you are a weak, powerless fool, and you are mine!"_

Ginny gasped and sat up abruptly, frantically looking around in the darkness for the pale, sneering face of Tom Riddle, but a light snore nearby brought her back to the present. The room seemed very dark initially, but as she caught her breath, she was better able to see around her room, which was dimly lit by the half-moon outside. Hermione slept on a mattress on the floor nearby, undisturbed by Ginny's nighttime terrors.

She sighed and wiped some of the cold sweat from her brow, wishing her hands would stop shaking. Once she caught her breath, however, she slid out of bed, afraid to return to sleep. There was a time, between her third and fourth years at school, when she would sometimes go weeks without the nightly visions of the Chamber of Secrets, but after Dumbledore had died, she began experiencing them almost every night.

She pulled on a jumper and put some socks and slippers on, slipped past Hermione, and wandered out into the hall, trudging into the bathroom, where she turned on the sink and splashed cold water into her face, washing away the sweat and tears, avoiding looking in the mirror as she did, because it was at these times that she felt the worst of her self-loathing. There had been the occasion some summer days where she had woken Hermione up after crying out at night, but Ginny felt as though she had no right to confide in her friend, not when Hermione had come so close to death because of her.

When she finished drying her face, Ginny again stepped into the hall, but instead of returning to her room, she quietly made her way down the stairs toward the kitchen, feeling a strong need for some water. As she always did, she tried to force the images from her mind as she filled the glass, and at least her hands had stopped shaking.

"Ginny?"

She almost dropped her glass. She hadn't noticed, when she entered the kitchen absorbed in her own self-incriminating thoughts, that someone was already there, seated at the kitchen table.

"Harry?" she asked, recovering from her surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Couldn't sleep," Harry answered, shrugging. "You?"

She hesitated. "Same."

There was momentary silence. Neither knew what to say to the other. Then Harry asked uncertainly, "Do you want to take a walk outside? Clear your head a bit? I could do with it."

Ginny looked outside incredulously; even inside it was terribly chilly. Just as importantly, she couldn't help but wonder why Harry wanted to go outside with her. But she also knew that they wouldn't be able to go out of sight of the house without someone in the Order immediately turning up to escort them back, so it was likely they wouldn't be out for long. So after a minute, she nodded, and Harry's chair scraped on the kitchen floor as he stood. He was already bundled in a jacket and had his shoes on. She must have walked in just as he was getting ready to step out.

She followed him out the back door, and as she stepped outside, Ginny's eyes were immediately drawn to the dark sky, where she could see the constellation Cygnus rising in the east. Their breath became visible mist illuminated in the moonlight, and Ginny shivered. "Blimey, it's cold."

"D'you want to go back in?"

"No, I'm fine. Let's go."

The pair of them slowly walked out into the garden, neither saying a word for a few minutes, until Ginny asked, "So what woke you up?"

"I never went to sleep," Harry admitted. "Had too much on my mind. What about you?"

Ginny was quiet for a few minutes, uncertain she wanted to unload to him. But suddenly desiring to do just that, she answered, "Nightmare."

Harry observed her quietly, and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?'

Perhaps it was because she hadn't talked about her dreams since she was twelve or thirteen, and certainly not to Harry, but Ginny was startled by the question. Somehow it had never really occurred to her to confide him Harry about it, about hearing Riddle taunting her for being weak every time the subject came up. Since the Chamber, she'd sworn never to show weakness of any kind, and she couldn't help but fear that she would show such weakness if she ever unburdened herself.

Unwilling to quite let go of this, Ginny shook her head. "It's nothing, really."

But she realized as she spoke, that not only was her statement categorically untrue, but also that Harry, judging from the way he scrutinized her, knew it as well. She fidgeted uncomfortably, and looked back at the stars. But Harry said nothing, evidently not wanting to push her.

Finally, after a few minutes in awkward silence, Harry asked, "Knut for your thoughts?"

Ginny's laugh was hollow. "Surely they're not worth that much."

"Surely they _are_ ," Harry retorted, mildly exasperated.

Ginny paused, thinking, and looked back at the stars. "I was just thinking… they never change. Peaceful, not like down here."

Harry looked upwards too, nodding thoughtfully.

"Here everything's changing," Ginny continued, allowing a bit of sorrow to creep into her voice. "Even the summer weather. But at least the sky won't. Not unless Voldemort somehow finds a way to block starlight."

It was a thought that filled her with uncertainty, foreboding. She knew full well that Voldemort could hardly cause the stars to go out, but for some reason, the thought made her uneasy. She looked at Harry, who had assumed a stoic, resigned expression, a look she found disheartening and even terrifying, and something suddenly broke inside her. Before she knew it, she was talking.

"Ever since the Chamber," she said in a near-whisper, "I've had nightmares about the things Riddle said and did to me. And sometimes I've dreamed about things that didn't happen then, but could have."

Harry looked concerned. "How often do you have these nightmares?"

Ginny closed her eyes, trying to reign in her thoughts and emotions. Once she felt herself in control, she admitted, "All the time."

Harry nodded sympathetically. He understood; and Ginny realized that he likely would understand more than anyone else could. While his own experiences weren't the same as hers, he too had a personal history with Voldemort that ran deeper than the threat of death or torture. This understanding left her with sufficient encouragement to continue confiding him, where in recent years she had confided in no one.

"He made me relive the attacks," Ginny continued, looking away from him. "In the Chamber he made me watch everything he forced me to do. In these dreams, or if I'm too close to Dementors, I see myself setting that bloody snake on Colin or Justin Finch-Fletchley or Hermione…" She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I felt his anticipation each attack, his hope that the attack would kill rather than merely Petrify. I felt him enjoy it… and it felt as though… as though I…"

But she couldn't continue. Turning away from Harry, she buried her face in her hand, shivering violently. She didn't want to see his anger, empathy or whatever he was feeling, because it reinforced her own humiliation and shame, the bitter self-disgust she always felt when her past revisited her. But to her surprise, Harry immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. Ginny buried her face into his shoulder, forcing down the sobs that threatened to erupt from her. Instead she simply stayed there in his arms, allowing herself to accept his offer of comfort and sympathy.

Harry was silent, and Ginny wondered what his thoughts were, before returning to her own. But presently a growing numbness in her feet and toes reminded her of their surroundings, and she stepped back and looked at her watch.

"I'm bloody freezing," she said to Harry. "And you probably are too. Let's go back in. And you should get some sleep."

Harry nodded. That special moment, whatever it was, had passed. Together they went back to the house, but the short walk seemed to take an age. As Harry opened the back door, however, and started to step inside, Ginny reached out and took his arm, holding him back.

"Thank you for listening," she murmured, wishing she didn't sound like she had a head cold.

Harry smiled. "I'm here if you need me."

"But you won't be in a few weeks." Ginny then winced. She hadn't meant to say that, but she couldn't help but feel his coming absence.

Despondent, Harry responded, "I wish that weren't true. I wish you could come with me."

"I know you do," Ginny whispered. "I wish that too, but I know how it is."

He nodded and stepped back inside. She followed and silently closed the door. As she started back for the stairs, she became aware that Harry was still watching her intently, and she looked at him expectantly.

He took a deep breath. "No one blames you for what happened, Ginny. Whatever he might have told you, what happened that year wasn't your fault. It was _his_."

Ginny shook her head bitterly. "I wish I could believe that."

She could tell her words saddened him, but he said no more. They simply stared at each other momentarily, and then Harry stepped before her and reached forward, brushing a strand of hair from her face. Then, to her surprise, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. He drew back, and gave her a gentle smile, which she tentatively returned, before stepping away and heading for the stairs, pausing only to bid him good night.

* * *

The next day, if Harry and Ginny both had pale, sleepy faces and dark bags under their eyes, nobody commented or seemed to notice. Hermione was engrossed in the morning _Prophet_ , and Ron, as usual, wolfed down his breakfast as Molly quietly cleaned up nearby. These and Harry and Ginny remaining in fatigued quiet, allowed the Burrow a quiet morning. Once he finished eating, Harry joined Ginny and Molly in washing dishes, but nobody said much.

Hermione looked increasingly uneasy as she read through the paper, which Ron noticed once he had eaten his fill.

"What's up?" he asked.

Hermione looked up in surprise, and put the paper down. "Nothing."

"Did you wake up with your face frozen like that, then?" Ron retorted.

"No, seriously, nothing," Hermione said, and then clarified, "I mean nothing bad has been reported. No Death Eater attacks, no disappearances, nothing. Same as it's been every day since the funeral."

At this, Ron returned her uneasy expression. "It's a bit dodgy, isn't it? You'd think You-Know-Who'd have done _something_ by now."

"I'm sure it's nothing serious, dear," Molly said calmly. "No news is sometimes good news, after all."

In spite of her casual tone, Harry noticed that her eyes had flicked to the family clock, and then out the window, where they could distantly see Mad-Eye Moody checking the wards at the borders. He caught Ginny's eye, but she shook her head and continued scrubbing dishes, leaving Harry to return to his own work without comment. Molly's demeanor had left him convinced that neither she nor any of the rest of the Order would be very forthcoming about the real reason, whatever it was, for the Death Eaters' oddly quiet behavior since Dumbledore died. Whatever she said, however, none of the four teenagers were convinced that it was nothing to worry about.

If Molly's obviously forced calm wasn't a dead giveaway, what happened next was.

Harry had just finished putting away the frying pan when a tawny owl he didn't recognize flew through the kitchen window, dropped a letter onto the table, and settled on the aforementioned clock. When Ron moved to pick up the letter, however, Molly rushed forward and cried, "Wait! It could be dangerous!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all stared, startled at this extraordinary exclamation. Ginny said placatingly, "Mum, they're constantly screening our post for anything dodgy. It wouldn't have got through if it contained anything dangerous."

Molly reddened a little, but said nothing. Taking this to mean he could touch the envelope, Ron picked it up and looked at the seal.

"It's from Gringotts. For Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he took the letter. "What on earth do they want?"

Ron shrugged. "Probably that thing they send everyone about to turn seventeen. About opening a vault. I got one too, not that I have any money to put in a Gringotts vault," he added uncomfortably.

Harry broke the seal and shook the letter from its envelope.

 _Dear Mr. Potter,_

 _We congratulate you on your coming of age on the 31_ _st_ _of July, and management of your family estate will be transferred to you on this day. To review your assets, and to answer any further questions, we would like you to meet with your accountant on the twenty-fourth of July at eleven o' clock. Please be present at Rok Grimrook's office at that time. If this does not meet with your convenience, please let us know immediately. Return our owl with a reply._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Menger Gadlak  
_ _Assistant Manager_

Harry looked at Molly. "When exactly is Bill's wedding?"

"The twenty-sixth of July." Molly frowned at him. "Why?"

"I'm supposed to meet with an accountant on the twenty-fourth," Harry explained.

Molly glanced at the clock again, and Harry braced himself. Sure enough, she shook her head firmly and said, "It's too dangerous for you to go into Diagon Alley these days."

Ginny, also becoming wary, said quietly, "Mum, I hardly think that one trip to Gringotts will be"—

"No," Molly cut her off, her earlier agitation returning. "It's too public. Anyone could be in the crowd."

She did not seem put off by the others' increasingly astonished stare. Harry had seen Molly in various degrees of anxiety and caution, but he had never seen her so paranoid, and he found it unnerving.

"He could use the Floo Network," Hermione pointed out. "I'm sure that'd be"—

"I said no!" Molly snapped. "You'll have to cancel your appointment."

"Until when?" cried Harry indignantly. "This sounds important, and they want to deal with it before I turn seventeen. I don't care how dangerous it could be, I'd like to have access to my money, thanks!"

Molly stepped back, looking stunned. Harry had almost never talked back to her before. But he would not be swayed.

Ron, looking to defuse the sudden tension, quickly asked, "Mum, why can't someone escort Harry there? The goblins won't be happy if he postpones this. You know that."

"And frankly," added Ginny angrily, "it's _his_ money and _his_ right to decide this."

She glared at her mother, who looked of a mind to argue back, but she was cornered. None of the others were in accord with her on this, and Harry suspected that nobody else except perhaps Mad-Eye would be either. She was being unreasonable and she knew it.

Frustrated, she bit out, "Very well. But not without Bill or Mad-Eye with you."

"Fair enough," Harry said, relaxing. It was a compromise he could live with.

Molly, looking pale and upset, hung up her wash rag and left the kitchen.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. "You'd think Diagon Alley was literally crawling with Death Eaters."

* * *

After nine o' clock, Diagon Alley was nearly deserted. Nobody lingered after dark there, not anymore. Nobody except those to be avoided. As he closed up shop, the proprietor of Flourish and Blotts briefly poked his head out the shop door, looked up and down the street, and then stepped back in and closed it. As he did, the door and windows momentarily glowed a purplish color, the magical equivalent to Muggle shops pulling down metal roll-up doors in sketchy areas.

Other shops did the same. The street was remained dark and silent. Briefly the only the lights from proprietors' upper windows shone, but these were quickly obscured by slamming shutters followed by the same purple emanation, until the only smattering of light came from Gringotts.

In a small alley next to the bookshop, a hooded figure stirred from the shadows. He silently stepped into the dark street and looked around cautiously, before he set off in the direction of the bank, one hand buried in the pocket of his dirty, patchy robes, the other hand clutching a wand. He did not, however, look left nor right as he made his way up the street, and he did not stop until he was near Gringotts, near the junction between Diagon and Knockturn Alley. Another hooded figure was waiting there, a large man in black robes with piggy, watery eyes.

"Yer late, Des," the man muttered.

"Late?" Des asked irritably. "Ain't easy getting' round Diagon Alley these days, Carrow. Aurors watchin' night an' day, 'specially Knockturn."

"Whatever," Amycus Carrow interrupted petulantly. "'Ave you got the potion?"

Des withdrew his hand from the pocket of his robes, revealing a phial with a lethal-looking black liquid.

"Yeh owe me big for the effort it took ter get that," Des growled, looking at Carrow's pockets greedily.

Carrow withdrew his wand warningly. "The Dark Lord owes yeh nothin' more than what yeh've been offered, sneak."

Des paled. "I din't know, sir. I won't ask nothin'."

"No," Carrow agreed with a sneer. "I don't think yeh will. _Obliviate!_ "

Des's eyes dilated and glazed over. Confused, he blinked around at his surroundings. "Wha'?" Spotting Carrow, he asked in an oily voice, "Oh, good evenin', sir. Can I interest yeh in some protective amulets—oi!"

He stumbled as Carrow violently shoved him out of the way, pocketing the potion. "Outta the way, cur!"

Des hissed in annoyance, and motioned wildly with a rude hand gesture, but pointlessly. Carrow was already gone.

From a distance, the entire exchange was observed from a Gringotts window. Menger Gadlak could not hear their conversation, but he had seen the black market dealer suddenly recoil in fear from the larger man, who then struck him with some spell before retreating into the shadows. The dealer, seemingly unharmed, retreated into Knockturn Alley.

The younger Gadlak sipped a cup of tea. Unfortunately it was not the first time in recent months he'd observed a shady exchange from a window of Gringotts. The Aurors occasionally slipped up when tracking down the illegal dealers and their Death Eater buddies, though admittedly rarely. Still, Gadlak, or Mr. Menger, as his employees sometimes called him to avoid confusion, didn't alert them to what he had seen. There was no point. Both robed men would be long gone by the time anyone arrived there.

Someone knocked on his door, and Menger granted them entry without turning around. He heard his visitor step inside and quietly close the door.

"I got your note," he heard Rok Grimrook say.

Menger turned around and showed Grimrook a letter. "From Mr. Potter. He's confirmed the appointment."

Grimrook stepped forward and took the single sheet of paper, saying nothing except, "I see," before he perused its few lines.

"We also received a notice from the Ministry confirming my request for access to wand records," Menger informed him. "I hope you're aware that the Minister was not happy about granting that. We offered two hundred thousand Galleons to the Auror office in exchange."

Grimrook looked up in surprise. "Was that really necessary?"

"You tell me," Menger said grimly. "This plan of yours had better work. Can you pull this off without your client noticing?"

"It doesn't require an incantation," Grimrook assured him. "All I need is the wand in hand for a few seconds."

The assistant manager nodded in grudging acceptance. "Very well. I'll see to it that you have the necessary equipment in time."

"Thank you," Grimrook said.

Menger looked back out the window, at the now dreary, half-abandoned Diagon Alley. Grimrook, seeing his tension, joined him there and too looked out, but said little. Finally the younger Gadlak looked at him and said sternly, "Let me be clear about one thing, Grimrook. I have managed this bank for fifteen years under my father's direction. He may be prepared to take extraordinary risks, and that is a quality that has often paid off, but make no mistake: I do _not_ invest in anything unless it is based on a sound business practice."

"Is this going somewhere?" Grimrook asked, confused.

Menger glared at him exasperatedly. "You're placing your bets on a not-yet seventeen-year-old human we know relatively little about. One who is being hunted down by the same sorcerer who is responsible for the deaths of at least nine hundred people… including your family."

Grimrook's expression quickly became stony.

"Are you absolutely certain you and Grobschmied can pull this off?" demanded Menger.

For a moment, Grimrook matched Menger's stern demeanor with grim determination. "I don't know," he said. "But we'll do our damned utmost."

The other goblin brushed this aside. "Do you believe that Potter truly has it in him to do what has to be done?" he persisted. When Grimrook remained silent, Menger finally asked, "What are Potter's chances?"

Grimrook looked up, his face calm but Gadlak could detect anxiety in his eyes. Grimrook hesitated, clearly not wanting to give his friend and supervisor no more than a straight answer, yet seemingly unwilling to actually utter the words.

Then, as Menger Gadlak raised his eyebrows, equally determined to get an answer, Rok Grimrook, sighed and admitted, "I don't know."

* * *

 _A/N: Chapter's a bit longer than is normal for me; I usually write 15-25 pages per chapter, single spaced, but this one was about 30._

 _Please let me know if something doesn't make sense. I'll do my best to fix it or explain it in a later chapter._


End file.
